The Life of Pines
by DracoMalfoy456
Summary: Stanford Pines. A genius. A scientist. An inventor. The golden child, the gifted one. The one everyone always looked up to. The one he always looked up to. Stanford Pines. The name of the man he betrayed. The name that echoed in his head every time he went to sleep. The name that went with the face that haunted his dreams. Stanford Pines. The name he stole.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Welcome! So, this has been a fic idea that that has been stuck in my head since A Tale of Two Stans. I wanted to write something that showed how Stanley grew up, how he dealt with everything over the years. I got inspired to write this after listening to the song Bet My Life, by Imagine Dragons. Also, by the fact my dad and brother keep saying that Stan is nothing but a crook and a cheat. I've always loved Stan and wanted to write him as something more than that. I tried to keep as close to in character as possible, but if you think I messed up, please tell me so that I can correct it.

Also, if you see any mistakes, please let me know. I wrote this story while on vacation in Vegas using my iPod, so autocorrect might have messed things up. I've reread this chapter many times, but you never know.

I had originally planned on making this story only about 3,000-6,000 words, but something went wrong and now it has over 20,000, and I'm not done (though I'm close). Whoops. Ah well. Hopefully you all will like it. Please leave a comment! Constructive criticism is always appreciated, as long as you're kind.

General Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. This all belongs to Alex Hirsch, Disney, and whoever else owns Gravity Falls.

* * *

 _~~~I know I took the path that you would never want for me~~~_  
 _~~~I know I let you down, didn't I?~~~  
_

* * *

Stanford Pines. A simple name. Eight letters for the first, 5 letters for the last. A name so, so similar, but not quite the same as his own.

Stanford Pines. A genius. A scientist. An inventor. The golden child, the gifted one. The one everyone always looked up to. The one _he_ always looked up to.

Stanford Pines. The name of the man he betrayed. The name that echoed in his head every time he went to sleep. The name that went with the face that haunted his dreams.

Stanford Pines. The name he stole.

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

Stanley stood in the doorway of their pawn shop, a grin on his face and a bruise on his eye. Twelve years old and full of life, he raced up the creaking steps and burst into their apartment, proudly displaying the golden medal that he wore around his neck. He spotted his father sitting at the table in the kitchen and grinned widely at him.

"Dad look, I won a medal! First place and everythin'!" The boy hollered, pride radiating off of him. When his father had first signed him up for boxing a year or so previously, he had been terrible, unable to land a single punch. But he had worked hard at it, spending days in the gym to gain muscle on his lean form, and now here he was, a medal of his own shining brightly on his chest! It would have been better if his family had been there cheering him on, but he knew they were busy. After all, Ford had a spelling bee to prepare for and his parents had their work.

Stanley waited anxiously as his father looked him over, his face as stone cold and impassive as ever. When his father's eyes landed on his medal, the only acknowledgement he got was a small humph before the man went back to the newspaper he had previously been reading. Stanley tried not to let it get him down. His father had more important things to do than pay attention to his simple medal.

Entering the parlor, he spotted his mother sitting in her favorite window alcove, filing her nails down. His grin resurfacing, Stanley raced over to her and bounced up and down as he excitedly showed her the medal. She always was more proud of him and his hobbies than his father was, so he was hoping for a more excited reception.

"Ma, ma, look! I won a medal, first place! Do ya see?!" The boy exclaimed, his grin overtaking his face as he leaned on his mother's lap, practically shoving the medal in her face. He felt thin but deceptively strong arms push him away, causing him to stumble a bit over his feet. He saw a look of annoyance pass over his mother's face, causing his grin to dim slightly.

"Alright, Stanley, I see it! Calm down, yeesh. Can't ya see I'm busy? Why don'tcha go show your medal to Ford, let mommy finish her business, hmm?" The woman said, her eyes already flicking back to her hand. Stanley's grin faded off of his face as he nodded slowly, trying not to let the hurt show. His mother was busy, it made sense that she wouldn't pay attention to him right then. Maybe later.

"Sorry, Ma. I'll leave ya be."

His pace a bit slower than it was originally, Stanley finally made his way to the bedroom he shared with his brother. Feeling slightly downtrodden at his parents' lackluster enthusiasm, he slowly opened the door and looked around, eyes quickly spotting his twin sitting on his bed, a pen in his mouth and a long list of words in front of him. A small grin found its way back to his face as he took in the sight.

"You still lookin' ova those words? Don'tcha know you'll go blind if ya stare at words too much? Plus, ya already know 'em, what's the point in readin' 'em over an' over?"

His grin grew at the exasperated look his twin threw him.

"I gotta make sure I know them, Stan. The spelling bee's tomorrow and I hafta be ready!" The slighter boy exclaimed in exasperation, rolling his eyes at his brother's antics. He did a double take, however, once he noticed the bruise his brother carried over his left eye.

"Woah, how'd ya get that shiner?" Pushing his list of words aside and setting down the pen, the boy stalked over to his brother, a frown on his face. Stanley grinned proudly as he held up his medal.

"I won my boxin' match!" Stanley stated, a smug look passing over his face, "Somethin' you'd never be able to do, Poindexter."

Stanford's frown deepened as he took in the medal that his brother now had in his hands, holding it triumphantly in the air. "Ah shoot. That was today? Why didn't ya remind me Stan? You know I'd've been there had I known!"

"Hey, don't sweat it bro! It's all good. Ya just missed me punchin' out Jessie Goodman, that's all. Knew ya hadta study for your nerd bee tomarra, didn't wanna distract you or anythin'." Stanley said, though a happy flush flooded his face at his brother's words. He knew Ford would care about his match, it wasn't his brother's fault he had something important he needed to study for. However, now that he was back, maybe Ford could take a break... Studying too much was never a good thing, in his opinion.

Focussing back on his brother, he noticed that the slighter boy's frown remained, his head shaking in disagreement. "Still. I wanted to be there for ya, Stan. I know how important this was for you."

"Well, ya can come to the next one, alright? Now," the boy said, wanting to appease his brother's guilt as he put an arm around his brother, a grin on his face while he dragged him over to their pillow fort, "why don't I tell you all about my win, huh? That'll make up for ya not bein' there. And, ya can take a break from all that... Learnin' and stuff, listen to somethin' interestin' for once. Ya game?"

"Mmkay Stan. But first, let me see ta your eye, 'kay? It looks pretty nasty, an' I don't want it ta get infected or anything. Ya don't want your eye to hafta get removed, do'ya?" Ford chimed, pulling away gently from his brother's grip to get the first aid kit he kept by his bed for situations such as this. Stanley followed, grumbling about not needing to be babied, but allowed his brother to do as he wished, sitting on the bed to make it easier for Ford to reach.

Taking out the antiseptic and the bruise cream, Ford cleaned the eye gently before putting the cream over the top. He made sure to be as gentle as possible, though Stanley still winced occasionally, causing the slighter boy to stop and confirm his brother was alright before continuing. Once done, Ford put the kit back and followed his brother to their fort, settling in next to Stanley as the boy told an exaggerated tale of how he singlehandedly took out five guys all at once. Ford always enjoyed his brother's tales, even if they were beyond preposterous.

By the time Stanley was done with his epic tale, both boys were relaxed and comfortable in their little nook, neither wanting to move away from the other. Stanley felt a little smile tug on his lips as he felt his brother rest his head on his shoulder, feeling content and happy.

"Hey, Stan?" Ford mumbled several moments later, breaking the comfortable silence that had befallen the room. Stanley lazily looked down at his brother, an eyebrow raised.

"Whadda ya want, Sixer?"

"You gotta be more careful, ya know, when you're boxing. You don't wanna lose anymore brain cells, do'ya?

"Hey, are you makin' fun of me? Not all of us have brains like yours, smarty-pants."

"No! I just... Don't wanna see ya hurt, Stan. You're my brother. So... Please be careful? Please?"

Stanley blinked at the look his twin gave him, taken aback at the sincerity in his brother's eyes. Giving the slighter boy a quick grin and a small shoulder squeeze, Stanley replied, "sure, Poindexter. I'll be extra careful in the future, 'kay? I promise."

"Mmkay. Jus' as long as ya make sure ta try. Don't wantcha bein' all brain dead. You'd be no fun, then." Ford joked, nudging Stanley in the shoulder, causing the bulkier boy to chuckle and shove playfully back.

"As if. I'll always be around ta annoy ya, Fordie. Don'tcha worry. Now, Imma gonna get us some snacks from the kitchen, wait here." Stanley said as he got up, scurrying quickly to get something for the two to eat, as he was famished due to the earlier fight. He didn't notice the concerned look that Ford sent after him, nor the soft sigh the boy let out as he frowned deeply at the medal his brother had handed him to look at.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm posting these two chapter together, since they're so short. Remember, this was originally supposed to be only about 6,000 words. The rest of the updates should be one per day.

Please remember to review. Thanks.

* * *

 _~~~So many sleepless nights where you were waiting up on me~~~  
~~~Well I'm just a slave unto the night~~~  
_

* * *

Stanley stood at the corner of the street, a cut on his cheek and a grin on his lips. Sixteen years old and cocky, he let out a soft chuckle as he watched the bullies run off, their tails between their legs.

"Yeah, ya cowards betta run!" He yelled after them, the coppery taste of blood lingering in his mouth. He turned to the woman on the ground, helping her up gently as he made sure she was okay.

"You don't hafta worry 'bout them anymore, ma'am. They won't bother you again." He assured, giving her his best, most charming smile, even if it was filled with some blood.

The woman whom he had helped was a twenty-something year old bird who had been getting harassed by a gang of teenage boys. Stanley, who had been walking home from the club, had noticed the woman getting more and more desperate as she turned down their advances. Being a gentleman, he had stepped in and punched the main teenager in the face, while saying something about how you're not supposed to harass women if they clearly say no. That had started a brawl on the side of the road, but he had gotten the best of them, using his years of boxing to help him out. The boys had run off, claiming that they didn't need to deal with this. Stanley felt smug at the thought, though he made sure to tone it down in front of the bird he was helping.

The woman thanked him profusely, even going so far as giving him a soft kiss on the cheek, causing a slight blush to build on his cheeks. He hadn't expected to stop to help someone out, but as he got recognition for his good deed, he found himself glad that he had been able to help, even if his face now ached. However, he had to bid the woman a hasty goodbye when he noticed the time, turning and continuing home. He felt only slightly anxious at the late hour, though he did make sure to quicken his pace just a bit. It wasn't like his parents even cared what time he came home anymore, just as long as he was quiet about it.

Arriving at the small pawn shop, he slowly opened the door to make sure it didn't squeak, before quietly walking up the rickety staircase. Arriving on the landing with no problems, he let out a soft sigh of relief and walked over to his room, being as silent as possible so he didn't wake his brother. This would be the tricky part, he knew, but part of him still had hope that he would go undetected.

But, as he entered the room, he could practically feel the glare that his twin leveled him, the light being switched on a second later. Stanley could hear the soft sigh Ford let out as he took in his brother's face, like he always did when he came home with a busted lip, or a bruised cheek.

"Another fight? This is the second time this week, Stanley." Ford stressed, wearing a pinched look as he got up and inspected his brother's face further. Stanley grimaced as his twin prodded his wounds with less care than he used to, before moving to get the first aid kit he kept by his bed. Ford gestured him over and started cleaning the cut on his cheek, ignoring the wince his brother gave when the antiseptic stung. Stanley fidgeted as his twin worked, knowing that he was about to get yelled at. No matter how many times he did this, Ford always did the same thing. Clean him up, then start in on the diatribe. At least he was consistent.

Once his face was cleaned and bandaged, the boys sat in a steely silence, Ford glaring while Stanley waited impatiently for the lecture he knew he would receive. Minutes passed before Ford let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, looking very tired. It was only then that Stanley realized how late it truly was, nearing three AM on a weekday, causing him to suddenly feel guilty over keeping his brother awake.

"Hey, Ford..." Stanley began, rubbing his neck nervously.

"What happened this time?" Ford interrupted, clearly not wanting to play any games. Stanley let out a breath and shrugged.

"Was out at the club with Carla. Ya know how she likes dancin'. Afterwards I saw a buncha teens harassin' a chick, so I threw a punch. It was a nasty fight, but I won!" Seeing his brother's unimpressed face, he added, "and just what was I supposed to do, Ford? Ignore it an' allow those guys to keep botherin' the lady?"

Ford scowled. "You shouldn't have been out in the first place! Dammit Stan... It's Tuesday. We have school tomorrow- or should I say today? What were you thinking staying out so late? How can you be so... So irresponsible?"

"Look, just leave it Ford. Ya do this ev'ry time. It's not important, okay? I'll still be able ta do the work, and what I can't do, you can help me with. 'S how it's always been. Why change it? You're the smart one, and I'm the fun one. 'S just how it is."

The silence stretched as Ford stared at Stanley, shaking his head and frowning with disapproval.

"I'll never understand you, Stanley."

Stanley gave his brother a small grin, putting his arm around his shoulder. "Well, good thing ya don't hafta 'understand' me, doofus. I'm your brother, that's all that matters. Now, go get some sleep, huh? Don't wantcha being all groggy in the mornin', your brains all fried and useless."

Ford gave his brother a small, tight-lipped smile back, though his eyes remained scrunched up in what Stanley knew to be worry. "Whatever, doofus. You get some sleep too, okay? Ya can't rely only on me to get you through school, you know. Ya hafta work on some of it yourself."

"Pfft, yeah right. Ya know I'll just leech offa your brain as long as I can. Might as well get somethin' outta havin' a genius for a brother."

Ford just frowned at him, before shrugging off the arm around his shoulder and heading to his side of the room to settle in. Stanley did the same and they both laid in silence for a moment.

"Goodnight, Ford."

"Goodnight, Stan."

Turning onto his side to sleep, Stanley ignored the disappointed sigh he heard Ford exhale, though that didn't stop his face from contorting into a guilty frown in response.


	3. Chapter 3

Next chapter up. Still kinda short, but the next one is longer.

I suppose I should mention that this chapter contains spoilers for A Tale of Two Stans.

Please review. Thanks. ^-^

* * *

 _~~~Now remember when I told you that's the last you'll see of me~~~  
~~~Remember when I broke you down to tears~~~  
_

* * *

Just to clarify, it was not his fault.

Well, okay, it was kinda, sorta, _maybe_ his fault, but he hadn't meant to. And that's all that matters, right? Right.

Stanley, eighteen years old and a professional screw-up, sat on the couch in the living room, feeling like he was gonna puke. He could hear his brother shuffling around in their room, trying to get everything ready for his big day. He felt sick as his brother kept going on about how this was his big break, how he was so excited. Stanley tried his best to act nonchalant about everything, trying not to let his guilt show.

And, it's not like he had meant to break the thing. He was just so... So angry. Upset. For years and years Ford had promised that they would go away together, hunting for treasure and mystery. But now, now that Ford had an offer to go to a big fancy geek college, he was breaking that promise. If there was one thing Stanley couldn't stand, it was when someone broke a promise.

If he was being honest, which he didn't make a habit of being, he would confess that he was most upset over being left behind. He always knew he was the dumb one, the one no one cared about. He just always thought he'd have his brother by his side. He never imagined his brother leaving him, and more than that, _wanting_ to leave him. He thought they would be together forever. It stung so badly that he was wrong about that.

So maybe part of him was glad he broke that machine. Even with all the guilt, part of him thought it was justified. After all, his brother was leaving him, with not even a single thought about what it would do to him. If Ford didn't care about him, why should he care about Ford? And even though the majority of him knew that what he did was wrong, especially the fact he didn't tell his brother, that small part of him clung to his bitter reasoning.

And who knew? Maybe if the thing really was busted and Ford didn't get into his fancy college, they could still go on their adventure together? That was what Ford said the other night, wasn't it?

And so, feeling slightly better, Stanley gave his brother a tight smile and wished him good luck, trying not to let the guilt flood his thoughts again.

Everything would turn out alright. He was sure of it. 

* * *

The sound of traffic filled his ears as he sat on the hood of his car.

Eighteen years old and suddenly homeless, Stanley stared sightlessly out at the water, mind numb but heart number.

Part of him didn't want to believe it. He knew he was the expendable one, the one who wasn't expected to do great things, but getting kicked out? He _never_ thought his father would do that. And Stanford... Stanley had to hold his breath to stop the tears that wanted to escape. He was a man, dammit, he would not... He wouldn't...

As tears stubbornly made their way down his face, Stanley leaned back and looked up at the sky, the stars muddied by light. He knew he was eighteen and that it was well within his parents' right to kick him out, but that didn't make it hurt any less. Especially since they knew he had nowhere to go, had not even a cent to his name. Did they truly care for him so little that they'd throw him away without even a backing glance?

Well, he'd show them! He'd show them that he wasn't going to roll over and play dead. He was going to make something of himself, be bigger and better than even Ford! Just as soon as he stopped these tears, of course.

And if, along the way, he couldn't help but remember his brother's face, when he closed the blinds and turned his back on him? Well, that would just have to spur him on. He'd show them. He had to, because otherwise they'd all be right. That all Stanley Pines was and ever would be is a loser and a failure. And that thought was just too much for him to take.

When the tears finally ceased, and he was able to calm himself as much as possible, Stanley got up and started his car. At least he still had this old thing, something that could double as a place to stay in when the going got tough. It was something, at least.

Now, first things first, he was going to have to get some money so that he could buy some clothes and whatnot. He may not have had the best hygiene in the world, but even he knew that you needed more than one pair of clothes to live. He'd also need to get some toiletries, such as a toothbrush and toothpaste, maybe some deodorant. Things that would help him not get arrested for looking like a bum. Of course, he _could_ always pick up his things at his old home, but going back there so soon after getting kicked out would be too much for him to bear.

Well, if there was one good thing about all of this, he thought numbly as he drove, it was that at least now he wouldn't have to go back to school ever again. It's not like he ever belonged there anyway; he was never the smart one. That was one thing that was always a constant in his life. That no matter how hard he tried, back when he still cared, he'd never come close to matching his brother's smarts. That was why Ford had a whole end table dedicated to his awards, and Stanley was lucky if he even had a drawer. Now he wouldn't have to pretend to be something he wasn't, so that was good at least.

Driving away from the beach, he tried to find a good place to spend the night while he thought over what he could do to make money quick. He could always try and see if that job that stupid principal was blathering about would take him... Though, that seemed just a little bit too much like defeat in his mind. Perhaps he could try at the diner down the street from his old gym. He had gotten a few jobs there before, maybe he could get a few more now, so that he could get enough money to buy the things he needed and get a _real_ job.

And maybe... Maybe, if he could find a cheap enough metal detector, he could live out his dream and become a treasure hunter! Then, when he found millions in gold, he could return to his family to show them how wrong they were about him. To show Stanford that he could be great too.

With a plan in mind, Stanley could feel the tight steel bind over his heart loosening slightly. Yes, he was still homeless, yes his family no longer wanted him, but now he had a plan, a plan to make everything okay. And that... That was something.

He knew the next several months would be tough, but he would get through them. He would find treasure and everyone would love him again. All he had to do was wait out the bad times and keep working at it.

And besides, if there was one thing that Stanley Pines wasn't, it was a quitter.


	4. Chapter 4

Do people actually like this story? No one is commenting and I have no idea. I'll still post everyday, until I run out, but... Please comment or review. I need to know what you all think of this story. Please. Even if it's just a quick "I like it!" or an "I don't like it!" Thanks.

Also, I added an OC to this chapter... I wasn't sure if I should, but eh. He's only in this one chapter so if you don't like him, don't worry. We'll never see him again. If you do like him, great! We'll still never see him again.

Thanks for reading. :-)

* * *

 _~~~I know I took the path that you would never want for me~~~  
~~~I gave you hell through all the years~~~_

* * *

Being a traveling salesman was hard.

Stanley, twenty two years old and jaded, sped down the highway as he was banned from yet another state, jaw clenched from this most recent failure. He thought for sure that his vacuums would sell. They sucked, what more did people want?!

Stopping off at a small roadside diner an hour later, he bought himself a small dinner with the little money he had made off his Stan-Vacs. Something that would tide over that familiar gnawing hunger in his gut.

So, four years later and he still had nothing to his name. So he might have spent some time in jail and is wanted in three different states. So what? He was still alive, wasn't he? And he was still fighting. He refused to give up, not now. Not after hearing about Stanford's grant that he was awarded. As petty as it all was, he wasn't gonna keel over and die while his stupid brother got everything he ever wanted.

At one point in his life, Stanley knew that he would have been proud of his brother. And, part of him still was. But the other part of him, the part that was growing bigger and bigger each day, resented the man. That he could go on and make something of himself, forgetting about his brother completely... Not caring that he was struggling down in Florida of all places... Well, it made something inside of him turn bitter and die.

There were times that he wished that he could just call Stanford, that maybe if he just explained himself it would all be okay, but those times passed quickly once he actually got through to the number he had looked up. When he would hear that achingly familiar voice, feel that suppressed anger and hatred fill him, alongside the guilt and pain... He couldn't make himself say hello. Besides, if Stanford didn't want to bother contacting him, like hell he'd be the one to cave first.

It still didn't make the ache inside of him stop, though. He could still feel it sometimes, even after he had had a good meal and his belly stopped growling. This ache that would make him fall to his knees, tears nearly blinding him as he kept them in check. He couldn't deny that he missed his old home, his family and his little brother. Nor could he deny that he missed his twin. But those days were long passed, and one day he would finally accept that.

Finishing up his pseudo-dinner, Stanley paid, got up, and left the little diner behind him. He was going to need to get another fake id soon, the rate he was going... He sighed as he realized how much it would cost him to find the right materials, hoping that he would be able to make enough money here in Florida to cover the cost.

As Stanley drove into an abandoned looking parking lot to spend the night, realizing that if he needed to make a new id that he'd have to save every cent, he wondered what he would try and make next. He would keep trying until one day he found the thing that worked. Until then, he would drive around the country, taking odd jobs here and there to cover the costs of living and of his, arguably cheap, products. It wasn't the glamorous life he had dreamed of as a kid, but it sure was... Something.

Hours later he got woken up by a police officer who warned him that if he didn't move his car immediately, he'd get arrested and the car would be towed. Tired, pissed off, and still hungry, Stanley mumbled an agreement as he took to the open road again, wanting to find a place where he could rest in peace.

Life wasn't fair.

Stanley, twenty-two years old and shivering, huddled up against the wall of his jail cell. Having gotten caught with his brand new fake id and quite a few other ones, he was now facing upwards to three months in a tiny Mexican jail house, with no way out. Yes, he had spent time in jail before, but never for this long. He had always been able to sweet talk his way out of the worst offenses, but this Mexican jail was having none of it. Heaving a sigh of defeat, Stanley stared at the wall, eyes dead and glassy as he thought everything over.

He was getting nowhere with his traveling salesman business. Everything he tried failed and he was now banned in more states than he was allowed in. It was times like this that he didn't even know why he bothered. It wasn't like he would ever make anything, let alone the millions he had promised he'd make to his ex-family. Not to mention the fact he owned several people money, money he most certainly did not have. Maybe it would be better if he just quit. Gave up, spending the rest of his life in a nondescript town with a nondescript name... Realize that his dreams of grandeur were actually just delusions.

It's not like it was much of a surprise. He'd known all his life he was good for nothing, that he was a failure and would never get anywhere in life. This... This just confirmed it.

Still stung like no one's business. 

* * *

Putting his head in his hands, he began pulling on his hair, face contorted into a bitter scowl, feeling angry at everything and nothing.

"Having a rough day, kid?" A gruff voice called, a strong Spanish accent coloring the words. Looking up in surprise, Stanley noticed a form lurking in the shadow of the cell, a large man with darkly tanned skin. He could feel his heart skip a best at the sheer size of the man, though he masked it with a scowl.

"Well, I'm currently stuck in a prison cell on the wrong side of the border so yeah, I'd say I'm havin' a 'rough day'." He shot back, not really caring if it wasn't the best thing to say to a hulking man in prison. He was having a crappy day, he was allowed some stupidity.

To his luck, the large man only chuckled and stepped into the light, allowing Stanley to see him better. He looked to be around 6'4, with the biggest muscles he had ever seen. He tried not to feel intimidated, but it was difficult when staring up at 300 pounds of Pure Man.

"Yeah, that sounds pretty bad. If you don't mind my asking, what are you in for?"

"Using multiple fake ids. How about you?"

"Attempted assault."

Stanley nodded, feeling just a bit nervous. Though, he supposed jail did that to a person, especially when they've been placed with a gorilla of a cell mate. He'd just have to wait it out, he guessed. How long was three months anyway? The time would just fly by, he was sure of it...

"So, you wanna talk about what's eating you up? 'Cause I've got the feeling that it's a bit more than just getting arrested."

"... Ya really wanna play at bein' my shrink? Uh, in case ya didn't notice, we're in prison. Not exactly the best place for heart ta hearts, ya get me?"

The man, whose name he still didn't know, just shrugged. "I've been alone in this cell for a month now, with only the warden for company. Honestly, I wouldn't mind talking about paint drying, just as long as I don't have to be stuck in mind-numbing silence. You wanna unload your mind, I'm fine with that. It's up to you, kid."

Stanley took a second to mull it over. On one hand, it would be nice to finally get all of this off of his chest. On the other hand, this was a complete stranger he was talking to. Plus, he was a guy. Guys don't talk about their emotions and all that. It's just... Not done.

"Yeah. Thanks, but no thanks. But, for the record, paint dries from the top to the bottom, dryin' quicker where it's thinner."

The man gave him a look. "How on earth did you know that? Spend lots of time watching paint dry?"

Stanley gave a careless shrug, not wanting to admit he had learned it during one of his brother's tangents when they were younger. He probably had hundreds of useless facts and trivia jumbled in his head because of his twin. 

* * *

He had been right about one thing.

Stanley, twenty-three and a recently free man, stood in the blissfully fresh air, grinning at his freedom. After sitting in a cramped jail cell for three months, it was nice to feel the breeze on his face.

To his surprise, the three months really had flown by. That was mostly due to his cell mate, whose name Stanley had found out was Luis.

During the time he was incarcerated, Stanley learned quickly that boredom was real and it sucked. The first few days, he had mostly ignored his cell mate, talking to him only when he was spoken to. However, once the boredom set in and the itch for human conversation settled in, he had caved and began talking to the other man.

Over the next few weeks he had learned a lot about Luis. Apparently the man had been a professional wrestler, back when he was younger. However, after a match that went wrong, Luis found himself with a badly strained back, unable to get back in the ring for fear of making things worse. Now, his back was almost fine, with only a few twinges here and there, but that didn't help him get his job back. He began making payments late and things slowly spiraled out of control after that. His wife, who only worked a part time job at a fast food joint, had to take on more and more hours while he recovered, causing tension between the two. Five years passed, with things getting steadily worse, until the day they found out that his wife was pregnant. Luis had immediately tried to get a good job, one that paid well so he could do right by his unborn child, but nothing worked. He got stuck in a retail job that paid poorly.

After the baby was born and they couldn't pay for anything that they would need, his wife had filed for a divorce, claiming that she needed to find someone who wouldn't let her down constantly. Luis had agreed and they had split. However, after a few months of shared custody of their newborn baby son, his now ex-wife had decided she didn't want to deal with him at all and got it arranged so that Luis got no custody and no visitation rights.

Luis fought it, but nothing could be done. No court would let him have his rights, since he couldn't pay child support nor could he provide a reliable home for the child. Not to mention most courts had found his visage disconcerting, positive he was a terrible person even though he had never even committed a crime. He had gotten arrested because he had tried to see his child, accidentally grabbing his ex-wife's arm tightly, giving her enough proof to get him locked away.

When Stanley had first heard the story, he had felt angry at his cell mate's wife, ranting about how it just wasn't fair that she would keep him from his own child. Luis, however, just shook his head and said how all she had wanted was what was best for their child. And, while he didn't agree, he could see why she would want him nowhere near the boy. He had no job and couldn't really do much of anything outside of bashing against people. No one would want their child to be raised by a man like that and he understood it.

That, however, had made something in Stanley twist when he heard it. He didn't understand how the other man could be so blasé about this, which he actually said to Luis. The man had just shrugged and said that he had had some time to think about it and that being angry or resentful did nothing for him. Accepting that life was unfair and cruel, and then moving on seemed to be the best option. Staying focused on the bad parts of his life didn't help him, not if he ever wanted to have hope of becoming a man who his son would be proud to call 'dad.'

Those words echoed in his head for days. It had just seemed so... Easy. Accepting that life sucked and then moving on. But part of him... Part of him almost wished he could do it. Just accept everything that had happened instead of letting it well up inside of him.

During those three months, he also told a bit about himself as well. Not the whole story, just small details, such as being kicked out of his house, and about how he had gotten into a fight with a good 'friend' of his. Luis had been sympathetic but hadn't said much about it other than that he should maybe try and reach out, something Stanley utterly refused to do. He also mentioned how he had kept falling into trouble with the traveling salesman gig, but didn't know what else to do. Luis had responded by saying how he should do what he was good at. When Stanley had mentioned he wasn't good at _anything_ , Luis had said that he should just find something he enjoyed doing and stick at it. If it didn't work, it didn't work. Not like he had much to lose.

So now, recently free and filled with advice from an unlikely source, Stanley set out from the small jail house, picking up his car on the way out of town from where he had stored it. He had decided while in jail that, even though it hadn't worked when he first tried, he was going to hunt for treasure once more. Yeah, maybe it was a fool's errand, but Stanley had never pretended to be anything but a fool. So he would go out and hunt for treasure, whether or not he found anything. And, worse comes to worse, he could always go back to being a traveling salesman...


	5. Chapter 5

Today's chapter is mostly a review of the episode A Tale of Two Stans, the part where Stanford gets sucked into the portal. The beginning is just Stanley's thoughts on going to his brother.

I use a lot of dialogue from the episode in this chapter, so I feel I should mention that I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING. I got the dialogue from the episode, none of the spoken words in this chapter are my own.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews, people from Fanfiction . net. They meant a lot to me and inspired me to continue writing. I now have only one or two chapters left and I added "The Stanchurian Candidate" to the story.

P.S: I just realized that FF . net has not been adding my line breaks. It's been so long, I forgot they didn't allow dashes to be used. Whoops. Anyway, I went back and added lines in, to make things make more sense.

* * *

~~~I've been around the world and never in my wildest dreams~~~  
~~~Would I come running home to you~~~

* * *

He had no idea what he should do.

Stanley, twenty eight years old and conflicted, stared down at the postcard he held in his hands. He had read and reread the words written on it more times than was probably necessary, but he couldn't help it. It just seemed so... Bizarre to him. Almost like a trick; some cosmic force that just wanted to tug ol' Stanley around on a string.

Because there was no way, at all, that his brother had actually sent him a postcard asking him to come see him. Not after ten long years of radio silence. Not after ignoring him for all this time. It was too unthinkable, too perfect. It had to be a trick

However... What if it wasn't? What if Stanford really wanted to reconcile? What if he passed on this opportunity and never got to make up with his brother? Turning the postcard over, he reread the words for the thousandth time. 'Please Come.' What on earth was he supposed to do with that?

Stanley took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had to go. He knew he had to. But- and he hated to admit it- he was afraid. No. Not afraid. Utterly terrified. It had been years. Years in which he changed in more ways than he cared to admit. Who knew what Stanford was like now? Who knew how they'd react to each other?

Not to mention that he was still a failure, despite the promises that he had made himself all those years ago.

After his stint in jail in '75, things had looked up for him. Well, for maybe a week. He had managed to try his hand at treasure hunting again, playing the lotto and scratch offs during his down time, but it didn't work. Nothing did. He also found that he couldn't go back into sales, the whole business tasting so bitter in his mouth, a constant reminder of his failures, but there was not much else he could do. It was when he started going into more... Questionable options, that he had realized he had hit a new low. Using his car to possibly, maybe transfer certain 'banned' substances that he totally had no idea about across the border? Not the highest moment of his life. But, you did what you had to when you were technically homeless and penniless.

And jail, he had soon realized, had become a regular thing for him. He spent months at a time in jails around the U.S. and Mexico, even once up in Canada, getting caught for his fake ids, or for shoplifting, or some other misdemeanor he had committed. His list of banned cities grew by the month.

How could he return to Stanford when he was still nothing? How could he take the shame?

But... But it was his brother. And no matter how much he wished he didn't, Stanley still loved his brother with all his heart. He couldn't pass this opportunity up. He couldn't... He couldn't.

And so, even though he felt like he was going to puke from the anxiety, he packed his things up and drove out of the city he had settled in, setting his sights on a small town named 'Gravity Falls,' desperately hoping he wasn't making the worst mistake of his life.

* * *

Ten years. Ten years, and THIS was what he got? Ten years and all he got was a 'hi, I trust you, so take this weird book thing and then go as far away from me as possible'?! After getting his hopes up that they could maybe work things out?

Stanley, twenty eight years old and furious, glared at his brother, feeling that all too familiar hatred and resentment beginning to bubble up and flood through his veins.

"That's it?!" He practically shouted, teeth gritted and his hands balling into fists, "You finally wanna see me after ten years, an' it's to tell me to get as far away from you as possible?!"

He watched as Stanford threw his hands up, glaring briefly at him before walking away again, shaking his head. "Stanley, you don't understand what I'm up against! What I've been through!"

Stanley could feel the hatred rising even more, could feel himself practically growling at the words his brother had spat out at him. What _he_ had been through?! What Stanford, the perfect, the _genius_ , had been though?! Well, he could pretty much guarantee that no matter what precious Stanford had been up against, he, Stanley, had been up against even worse. Going to jail in three countries kind of proved that, really.

He said as much to his 'brother,' who threw it back at him, bringing up that stupid, _stupid_ mistake he had made at eighteen. Him, selfish?! Well, yeah, probably, but Stanford had no right to call him that. Not because of that. Not because of a fricking _mistake_ that he had already paid the price for thrice over.

His anger mounting, he took this book his brother was so fond of and held his lighter underneath it. Stanford wanted it gone so badly? Well _fine_. He'd get rid of it. _Permanently_.

Stanford didn't like that. Stanley knew that he wouldn't. His brother had never liked it when he had messed with his stupid writings. He had used to feel some guilt for causing his twin distress, but right now he just couldn't muster any up. His brother's stupid obsessions was what caused this mess, so he felt no guilt about wanting them gone.

Grappling around on the floor, the two fought for the book, moving over to the control panel for the weird upside down triangle thing his brother had created. After getting knocked into the buttons by his twin, making the triangle turn on, Stanley couldn't help but let the words he had kept inside for ten years spill out.

"You left me behind, you jerk! It was supposed to be us, forever! You ruined my life!" Stanley yelled, gritting his teeth at he tried to pry the book away from his brother.

"You ruined your own life!" Stanford shot back, pushing him and causing him to stumble.

When he felt a searing pain in his shoulder, he couldn't help but let out a strangled scream. He could distantly hear Stanford saying something, but Stanley didn't care. He was hurt, mentally and physically, and he just wanted his twin to hurt as badly as he did.

Punching Stanford felt good, he decided as he watched his brother trip and bump into a lever. It was satisfying to finally have an outlet for all this pain and rage he felt.

Sneering and panting with exertion, Stanley growled, "Some brother you turned out to be. You care more about your dumb mysteries than your family? Well then, YOU CAN HAVE 'EM."

Giving his brother a push, he felt only a moment of satisfaction, before that triangle started pulling Stanford inward. What the...

"Whoa, whoa, hey, what's going on?" He asked, not able to move for a second. He watched, horror freezing his heart, as his brother started floating away from him. Getting over his momentary shock, he ran after his brother, trying to get to him and pull him back if he had to. "Hey, hey, Stanford-"

"Stanley! Stanley, help me!"

Help him? How?! All of the buttons looked the same to him and besides, the only way he could get to them is to leave his brother, which he really didn't want to do. "Oh, no, _what do I do?!"_ Stanley could feel the cold radiate out, his limbs growing heavy and time slowing down as his brother floated farther and farther away, while he still had no idea what to do. The anger that had fueled him only moments before extinguished quickly as the numbing fear took over.

"Stanley! Stanley! Do something!" With one solid throw, Stanford tossed that book he was so obsessed with towards him, Stanley barely managing to catch it.

Suddenly, just as Stanford reached the entrance of the triangle, the brightest white light Stanley had ever seen filled the room and he felt himself getting pushed backwards. Hitting the ground hard, he tried to shield his eyes. When the light had faded, he looked up, only to see that his brother was nowhere to be seen.

"Stanford?" He called hesitatingly. When his twin's glasses fell onto the ground, he felt a wave of panic overcome him.

Running to the weird triangle slash portal thing, he screamed, "Stanford, come back! I-I didn't mean it!" He began pounding on the machine, but all that did was make it turn off. Feeling out of his depth, he ran over to the lever that Stanford had accidentally pulled, trying to get it to turn the portal back on, but nothing happened.

"I just got him back! I can't lose him again! Ah come on!" He yelled, his heart constricting as the reality of the situation made itself known. "Stanford!"

The word echoed through the room, but there was no reply. Falling to the ground, Stanley put his head in his hands, taking deep breaths as he tried to calm his now racing heart.

This was not what he had wanted. Yes, he had wanted Stanford to hurt, hurt like how _he_ hurt, but... This? Getting sucked up into some alternate world, where his brother could be suffering in a hell dimension, or fighting for his life, or -God forbid- _dead_? He had never, ever wanted this.

All he wanted was his brother back! All he had ever wanted was to be welcomed back home with open arms, to be _loved_ by his family, to matter to someone! And now he had less than nothing; a stupid broken portal to an unknown galaxy and a pair of glasses that would only serve as a bitter reminder of what he lost.

He was feeling content to just sit here on the floor of this laboratory for the rest of his life, when he saw that Godforsaken book his brother had thrown towards him. The thing that had started all of this. But instead of feeling rage or hatred towards it, he suddenly felt a shot of hope flood through him. That was what would fix everything. The answer to fixing the portal had to be in that book! Of course!

Flipping through the pages carelessly, Stanley tried to find any information he could about the portal. He had started to feel a crushing fear that there was nothing, when he found a page that outlined the portal. Looking at the strange lines and symbols, Stanley did his best to understand what it was saying, but he couldn't make heads or tails of the damn text. His brother had always had a thing for ciphers, yet Stanley never really gotten them. Heaving a heavy breath, he realized that this was going to take a while. The exhaustion of the day settling into his bones, he got up from the ground and, with one final look at the machine that took his brother, he exited the laboratory and entered the room he assumed was his brother's bedroom.

Things looked bad. Stanley knew this. But things had looked bad before, and this time he would make things right. He didn't care if it took a hundred years, he would figure out what this book meant and he would _bring his brother back._ If there was one thing he was determined to never fail at, it was this. He would bring Ford back, even if it killed himself in the process. And that, was a promise.


	6. Chapter 6

Yay, new chapter. Sorry it's a bit late; I just got back from a Weird Al concert.

Now, I have a few things I feel I should mention before you read this though.

First: I probably should mention that I do not believe that the baby in A Tale of Two Stans was Shermy, and it was instead Mabel and Dipper's father. The reason why? Because it would be pretty much impossible for someone born in 1971 (the year I've assumed that all takes place in) to have two twelve year old grandchildren in 2012 (the year the show takes place.)

I've done the math. If that was Shermy, then either he or his kid must have had kids when they were 13 or 14. And considering this is a kid's show, I doubt that. But, a person born in 1971 having a kid in 1999? That is probable.

In this story, Shermy is about a year younger than the elder Pines Twins. Part of me believes that if Shermy wasn't the baby, then he would be older than the Stans, but just for this story, I'm saying he is younger. That means he probably had his son at age 16 or 17; not the best age, but better than 13. (Also, I'm saying that Shermy is a guy. I know that Shermy could be a girl, but until it is confirmed either way, I'm sticking with them being a guy.)

Second thing: Someone on ff . Net asked me last chapter if I was writing the Stans to have New Jersey accents, and the answer is: That was my intention, at first. Then, I rewatched the episode A Tale of Two Stans and realized the kids had a sort of half Jersey accent, not very strong. So, I tried to copy it. I would sometimes put 'you' and sometimes put 'ya' and other various things. I don't know if I did it well, but I just tried to copy how they sounded. Personally, I would have just done a normal, proper writing, but it struck me as not being them. I also tried to have Stanley's accent be stronger than Stanford's. So… yeah. I've never really been to New Jersey, except to drive through it on my way from Upstate New York to Brooklyn (visiting one relative to another) so I'm not that familiar with the accent. Sorry if I completely butchered it.

Last thing: In this chapter there is a Jewish funeral (this is where the 'Jewish Pines' tag comes in). Now, while I am half Jewish, I've never been to a Jewish funeral, nor do I know much about them. All I knew was that they traditionally had to be within 24 hours of the death. All information on Jewish funerals I found online, so if I am wrong on anything, please tell me.

And that's it. Hope you like this chapter, it's the longest. Please review or comment!

UPDATE: I added a couple of lines to the part where Stanley is talking about his brother, Shermy, just to alleviate any confusion.

* * *

 _~~~I've told a million lies but now I tell a single truth~~~_

 _~~~There's you in everything I do~~~_

* * *

It was typical. The only thing he was good at, and he wasn't even doing it as himself.

Stanley, or should he now say _Stanford_ , stood in the doorway of the little cabin he now called his home, a too huge grin on his face as he welcomed in more suckers.

Twenty nine years old and worn-down, Stanley watched as the tourists wandered around the fake creatures and exhibits he had created, briefly wondering how anyone could be dumb enough to think this garbage was real.

It had come as a shock to him at first, that people actually liked his products. That people came to the Murder Hut and wanted to buy what he was selling. It should have made him ecstatic, that he was finally doing something right after a lifetime of doing everything wrong.

But the kicker? He couldn't even enjoy his new-found fame and money, since it all reminded him of what he had lost. Or, more accurately, _who_ he had lost.

After The Incident, as he mentally called it, he had spent weeks trying to fix that damned portal. He poured over that journal, reading and rereading it a hundred times to see if there was something he had missed. Anything that could clue him in on how to save his twin. Yet there was nothing, not in that journal alone. He'd have to get the other journal that the end of his journal alluded to and see if it had any answers, but he had no idea where Stanford had hidden it. And if there was one thing he knew, it was that if Stanford wanted something hidden, it _stayed_ hidden.

But he couldn't just give up. He would find a way to get his brother back, no matter what. However, in order to do that, he would need a little thing called food. And when the food Stanford had stored in his house had run out, Stanley knew he'd have to enter the little town of Gravity Falls, even if he really didn't want to.

It had surprised him greatly when the people wanted to take a tour of his brother's house, though it really shouldn't have. While he was used to his brother's nerdy obsessions, many people weren't and thus were intrigued when they learned about it. Getting paid to just let them wander around a bit? Easiest money he'd ever made. And with the mortgage his brother paid for this cabin, he'd need all the money he could get.

However a lot of his brother's things were dangerous and not good for people to see or be around. So, after some consideration, he had taken almost all of the inventions and stuffed them in the lab below, while he created weird, but fake, paranormal creatures and attractions, things that were similar to the creatures his brother had written about and the things he sometimes saw in the woods. And the people had eaten it up. Over the past year, he had become a popular tourist attraction, actually helping Gravity Falls get back on the map.

And yet every night he would spend hours and hours in his brother's lab and do everything he could to fix the portal. He had no idea what he was doing, but anything was better than doing nothing. However, he just wasn't smart enough. He tried to learn all he could on electronics and on engineering, but it appeared that that stuff took years of learning to completely understand it, and he simply didn't have the brains to do it. So he would tweak the wires, move around some buttons, fiddle with the lever… anything that would possibly make it work again.

What was possibly the worst thing about this whole business, outside of the fact that his brother was missing inside of an unknown dimension, was that he was going under his brother's name.

Of course, it did made sense. The house was under his brother's name, meaning he would have no claim to it if anyone were to ask. And, his brother wasn't wanted in multiple states like he was. So becoming Stanford made sense. Didn't mean it didn't hurt like all hell, being called the name that haunted him.

It was also difficult dealing with their parents. His mother called once, a few months after Stanford had fallen into the portal, and it had been beyond weird hearing her voice again, talking to him with actual affection. Of course, he had had to lie about how he was using a voice modifying potion that made his voice sound different, so she wouldn't get suspicious.

And there was also the time his little brother Shermy had visited, bringing his wife and child with him. Stanley remembered when he had last seen his little nephew, that day he had been kicked out. The boy had only been a baby then, but now he was nearly twelve. It had hurt him much more than he had thought it would to realize that he had missed the boy's whole life.

During his visit, his brother had laughed and joked around with him, which had been a bit awkward; Shermy had always been closer to Ford than he had been towards him. His little brother had also mentioned how his anniversary was coming up, which caused another pang in Stanley. He hadn't been able to attend the wedding, as it had been set for the day after Shermy turned 18, after his son had turned a year old and could sit through a whole wedding without fussing. Seeing his little brother, twenty-eight and a fully functioning adult, had been weird and awkward, but he had gotten through it the best he could.

Now, officially, Stanley "Stan" Pines was dead. Killed in a car crash about three months previous. It had caused a twinge in his gut to do it, but he had to. There were too many people looking for him, too many people who could ruin everything he was trying to do. Once he had his brother back, he'd just have to take on a new identity. What hurt most was that no one in his family had even noticed. Or maybe they just didn't care. He didn't even bother to have a funeral, because what would the point be? It wasn't like anyone would have shown up. He had no one to mourn him.

All in all, the past year had been difficult on him. Between the Murder Hut (a name he really should think of changing) and his late-night trips to work on the portal, he had been running himself ragged. Being a semi-responsible adult was difficult after a lifetime of being a drifter.

But he was getting there. While the portal was still busted, he was sure that he would get it working soon. Any day now it would be up and running and he'd get his twin back. He knew it.

Until then he would just have to keep going, living this lie of a life he had created for himself. At least he found that he actually liked being a tour guide for the things he created. He had always loved making up stories when he was a kid, exaggerating details to make even ordinary, everyday things sound extraordinary. Doing that for a living was a cinch for him. Lying was almost second nature by that point, anyway.

This was never the life he had expected having, but he found that it wasn't that bad. He missed his brother like crazy, guilt and helplessness clouding his thoughts more often than not, but he at least had a home. A place he could, for now, call his own. He just wished it hadn't been because he had all but killed his brother that he even had this.

* * *

He officially hated this machine.

Of course, he had always hated it, but now it was official. Thirty five years old and bone-tired, Stanley stared at the portal with weary eyes, as yet another attempt failed.

He didn't know why he tried. It had been over seven years since his brother had fallen into that void between worlds, and yet he was still no closer to finding a way to bring him back.

Everything he tried had failed. He had read every book he could find on mechanics, every fictional book on portals between worlds. He had even tried to take a beginner's course in mechanical engineering before dropping out when he realized he had no idea what he was doing.

And now this. He was sure, so, so _sure_ that this time it would work. That he had finally gotten the right combination of wires and that that stupid portal would open. Yet, nothing.

Sighing with defeat, Stanley shut the lights off in the lab and went upstairs to his room. He was lucky that Ford had built his house with a study that he was able to convert into a second bedroom, because he hadn't been able to set foot into Ford's room in years. In fact, he had even boarded it up, along with those stupid glasses. He couldn't deal with the constant reminders.

It took him a while to fall asleep, as it always did nowadays, but eventually he fell into a fitful slumber. Upon waking in the morning he was still exhausted, but what could he do?

The day that followed was the same as it always was. Since it wasn't vacation season, he spent most of his time sitting around doing nothing, or else thinking of new ways to fix the portal. He could feel the boredom set in, causing him to fall asleep once or twice. He always would jerk out of it when he saw the face of his twin, twisted in hatred or terror or pain or whatever emotion his mind had decided would hurt him the most.

It was around two PM when a group came in, a large family who was making a pit stop and wanted to wander around the town they had stopped in. They purchased seven tour tickets and Stanley went around, telling them stories about wild were-bunnies and of invisible lake monsters that ate little children who misbehaved during mystery tours.

After the tour was done, the five children ran around the gift shop, picking up snow globes and his bobble heads, Stanley yelling after them that they had to buy anything they broke. The mother of the family came up to him with a sheepish smile and apologized for her children's rambunctiousness.

"We've been in the car for over twelve hours, so they have a lot of energy to spare right now." The mother explained. He waved it off.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Kids are annoying and they like to run an' scream. Just as long as they don't break anything, I'm fine with it."

The mother just smiled again before wandering off to go look through the miniature museum area, where her husband was examining a part squirrel part badger he had glued together. The kids began screaming over something, causing him to get a massive migraine. He briefly wondered why he bothered doing any of this. He remembered again, however, when the family bought a whole bucket load of souvenirs, promising to advertise the Mystery Shack (a much better name than Murder Hut) to all their family and friends.

The day ended soon after, with only one or two people from town wandering in to see his new attractions. With a tired groan, he went over to his vending machine that disguised the entrance to the underground lab (something he had actually designed, thank you very much), entered the code, and went down, content to spend yet another sleepless night working on this stupid thing.

He didn't even expect it to work anymore. It was almost just habit that he kept trying at this point. Sure, sometimes he would have an epiphany and think he had the right combination, like last night, but mostly he was just resigned. And, while he would never admit it or even think about it, he wasn't so sure he wanted his brother back at this point. He had made a life here, even if it was stolen. He didn't know what would happen when Stanford came back, but he had a bitter feeling that it would just leave him high and dry again. But, he refused to think about it, knowing that no matter what, he had to bring his brother back. It was the most important thing he would ever do. He couldn't leave his brother behind, not like his brother had left him behind. He would bring Stanford back.

After hours passed, he called it quits and went back up to his room. He laid down and stared up at the ceiling for a while before falling asleep.

When he woke, he went to work.

Nothing changed, and nothing ever would change, he was beginning to fear. But he would keep going. If only because it gave him something to do, something to look forward to. He'd get Ford back and everything would be great again. He hoped.

* * *

When he heard the news, he didn't know what how to feel.

Stanley, thirty six years old and speechless, stared numbly at the form of his mother, crying softly into a handkerchief in his foyer.

It had started off as a normal day. He had woken up, eaten his cheap cereal brand (some habits were hard to break, after all) and started giving his tours like he always did. However, it was at around five, after closing, when he had seen the car pull into his parking lot. He had been about to tell the woman that he was closed when she had pulled him close and began crying, her voice shaking so much he could barely hear her. It had taken him a few moments, but once she had pulled back and looked him in the eyes, he realized with a shock who it was that was crying in his parking lot.

"Ma?" He had asked in wonder. He had not seen his mother in nearly twenty years, his heart constricting as he saw the tears running softly down her face. Snapping into action after a moment of a stunned stupor, Stanley had hastily invited her in and handed her an old handkerchief that he had found. It had taken her a few minutes to calm down enough to explain why she was there.

He had had to have her repeat it three times before it really sunk in.

His father, Filbrick, was dead. He had died in his sleep a couple days before of a heart attack. His mother, distraught over the death of her husband, had taken the two days to come to terms with it before setting out for Gravity Falls, knowing that she had to tell her son in person.

Stanley didn't know how to take the news. It had been decades since he had seen his father, and that last memory had been one of the worst in his life. Which was saying something, considering. But... He had always hoped to reconcile with the man. He knew it was pointless, especially now that he was technically dead, yet it was still a yearning that he had held in his heart. He still wanted to show his father that he wasn't useless, wasn't a waste of space. That he wasn't just 'lying and cheating on his brother's coattails.' That he _mattered_. But now... Now he'd never get that. Just like with Ford, he'd never get that reconciliation he had dreamed of for so long. It almost made him want to cry, if he still did that sort of thing. But he hadn't cried in years and he wasn't planning on starting again now.

While he was processing the news, he distantly heard his mother talking about something or another. It was only when he heard his name that he tuned back in. It took him a second to realize that it wasn't his 'new' name that he had heard, but his real one. One he hadn't heard in 8 years.

"-your father always had wanted ta find Stanley. He regretted kickin' him out, but he was too stubborn ta ever try an' look for him. It's such a shame that they neva' got ta make up. Ya think I should look for him? He deserves ta know, doesn't he?" His mother questioned, looking concerned, wringing her hands nervously. Stanley just stared in shock, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Had he heard her correctly? He didn't quite get how the conversation had switched to him and his father, but he was certain he had heard it.

W-what?" He asked dumbly, feeling shocked as his heart began to racing. His father had regretted kicking him out? He had wanted to… to reconcile? How… what?

"Oh, ya know. Stanley. Your brotha? I was thinkin' a lookin' for him again, maybe even hirin' a detective figure to help if I can't find him. I mean, this whole thing with ya father has got me thinkin' 'bout Stanley and I want to try an' find him, if only to tell him about your dad. It's been so long, though... Have you contacted him at all, ova' the years? I know ya two had been awfully close as youngsters. Ya think he'd want us to find him, even afta all this time?" She asked, a small frown on her lips as she thought. Stanley just kept on staring, trying to find the words. He had not expected any of this when he had woken that morning. But one thing in her words stood out to him...

"You... You don't know?" He whispered in confusion as he looked at her. For years, he had thought his family had known of his 'death.' He hadn't exactly made it subtle; he had had to make it big so the people after him would know he was gone. He had figured his family might have heard about it as well. But if not...

"Know what? Ford, do ya know where your brotha is?" She questioned, her eyes boring into his own, an almost excited light shining in them. He didn't know what to say. Should he tell her? That Stanley Pines was dead? On one hand, he didn't want to cause her more pain. But on the other... He suddenly had a burning desire to know how she'd react. An itch that, once he noticed it, he simply could not ignore. He knew it was petty, but he had spent nearly decades thinking his parents had never cared about him, that his supposed death meant nothing to them. Would… would she really care that he was 'dead?' Well, there was one way to find out...

"Ma... Stanley's dead. Has been for nearly eight years now." He stated slowly, watching her face closely, needing to know what would happen. He felt his heart nearly stop in anticipation.

His mother appeared to be frozen, her mouth half open as she stared wide eyed at him. She stayed like that for several seconds, for so long that he almost got concerned. It was right when he was about to ask if she was alright when she spoke again.

"W-what? Stanley's... Stanley's dead? _My_ little Stanley? H-how?"

"It… it was a car crash. He had been speedin' down the highway when he lost control of the car. His brakes had failed him when he had tried to stop, and he had crashed into the divider. The car caught on fire, which became so big that it completely burned his body beyond recognition. I, I thought ya knew."

"No… no I had no clue. Oh, my poor Stanley!" She wailed, bringing the handkerchief up to her face again. Stanley awkwardly patted her on the shoulder, feeling too numb to do anything else.

She actually cared. It shocked him, more than it probably should. His mother had always been on his side when he was a kid, listening to his stories and helping him with his troubles. But after everything when he was eighteen… Why hadn't she said anything, when his father had kicked him out? Why hadn't she stopped him or tried to go after him? Even as he watched his mother break down over the news of his 'death,' Stanley could feel a bitterness rising up in him.

"Yeah, well what did ya expect when ya kicked him out when he was eighteen? With no food, or clothes, or money? You only gave him a small duffel bag filled with old camping gear." He scoffed, the bitterness that remained from that night causing his heart to clench. He gave a small leer. "And besides, it's not like it was that much of a loss, huh? Stanley was a crook, a liar and a cheat. Guess Pa was always right about him. He really was good for nothin'." He added bitterly, almost to himself.

He hadn't been expecting the slap that followed his words.

"How dare ya speak about ya brotha like that! Stanley was a free-spirit, he- he jus' neva' wanted ta be tied down. He wasn't good for nothing, so don't ya dare speak of him like that!" She shrieked, a heart broken look upon her face.

He stared at her again, seeing the look on her face, and wondered what to do, what to say. He could still feel his anger at her, at it all, bubbling under his skin. But he also didn't want to fight. Was too tired to fight. Shaking his head, he let out a soft groan. He didn't want to deal with this, not now, not ever.

"Look, I'm sorry. That's ol' news, though. Ya... Ya mentioned something 'bout dad's funeral?" He asked, wanting to get back on topic. Luckily she accepted it, talking about the funeral they would have, saying how now they should do a memorial for Stanley as well. He nodded along, chiming in with his input every so often. At around nine his mother bid him farewell, saying how she would need to get on a plane so that she could tell Shermy the terrible news, and that the funeral would be in a couple days in New Jersey. Ordinarily, according to Jewish law, it would have been within 24 hours after his father's death, but she just couldn't handle it then, not to mention she wanted her sons to be there. Stanley nodded absently, understanding and saying that he'd be there, before tearing the cloth above his heart, while his mother tore her's above her right breast.

When she was finally gone, he sat down in his easy chair with a tumbler or five of whiskey and drank until he couldn't feel anything anymore.

When the time came for the funeral, Stanley wore his best suit and flew out to Jersey, feeling anxious to be back in his home state, especially since he was technically still banned. But when he saw his old home, his old stomping grounds, it was like nothing had changed. His mother had offered to let him stay in his old room, but he couldn't. He couldn't be reminded of his brother, of the life they used to share. It would hurt too much. Instead he got a small hotel room a block away.

The funeral itself was a modest one, very fitting for the man it was for. He had entered with his mother and younger brother right before the ceremony, the simple wooden casket closed. When the opening prayers were done, the eulogies were said, his being very short, mentioning how his father had always been reserved but that he was a good man underneath. He wasn't sure if he meant it or not.

After the funeral itself was over, the rabbi had made a small mention about him, Stanley, as his mother had promised. It had made him feel uncomfortable, but he had to pretend that he was mourning the loss of his brother, even if it had been eight years previous, holding his mother when she began to cry.

When it was all over with, he didn't even bother to stick around for the shiva, even though he knew he should have. He had told his mother that he had something important to get back to in Gravity Falls, but the truth was he couldn't stand being there any longer. The whole funeral had felt so wrong to him, like a glove that didn't fit quite right anymore. He had had to leave, needing space to breathe again.

This was no longer his life, he knew that. It never really was, if he was being honest. He had never belonged, not here. He had realized a long time ago that he had only ever truly belonged with his brother. It was what made his brother's decision to leave him hurt the most. Being here just put that all into harsh relief.

At home he spent most of the next week in his room, not working or doing anything else, having his own, private shiva. During that time, he thought about his father and what he meant to him. Stanley still loved the man, even after everything, but he also felt the pain and betrayal of being kicked out and practically abandoned by him. He ordinarily would have kept it inside, but he had decided to use the week of mourning as a chance to work through everything in his mind. It was his right, after all.

When the week was over he went back to work, determined to just forget the whole thing and get back to figuring out how to get his brother back. There was no sense in worrying about his father when he could still save his brother. He would still say the prayers when needed, but other than that he'd move on with his life.


	7. Chapter 7

Another day, another chapter.

Big time skip here, since there wasn't much more I could do in the thirty years Stan was alone, unless I wanted to repeat myself or talk about him and Soos. However, I thought that that would detract from the overall plot, plus I couldn't really come up with more than a few paragraphs worth. So, we time-jump to modern day, around and during the episode Scary-oke. Hope I didn't totally mess up the characters.

Also, a guest on FF . net asked me why did Stanley's mother not notice that he had five fingers instead of six. Answer: She wasn't really looking. I mean, she was distraught over the death of her husband and the supposed 'death' of her son. She wasn't really paying attention to how many fingers her son had. During the times that Stanley would see her over the years, I assume that he would keep his hands hidden from her, or else wear six fingered gloves with one finger filled with Styrofoam or something. (Also, I added a line in to this chapter that says something like this.) So yeah.

Please review/comment. :-)

* * *

~~~Now remember when I told you that's the last you'll see of me~~~  
~~~Remember when I broke you down to tears~~~

* * *

He watched the children as they ran around, a small smile on his lips that he tried his hardest to keep hidden, not wanting them to see his 'softer' side.

Sixty years old and content, Stanley sat back in his chair and sipped his drink.

When his nephew had asked him to watch his children for the summer, he had had some reservations. First, he hated children. They always annoyed him and he couldn't stand it when they screamed. Second, he wasn't exactly the most responsible man. While, yes, he had a semi-respectable job, he still did illegal things sometimes, such as cheat on his taxes or print counterfeit bills. Not to mention his whole business was technically a scam (though, to be fair, the people kind of deserved to get their money taken if they were that stupid). But his nephew, under the impression that he was Stanford, the responsible adult Shermy had always told him about, had been insistent. And he, kind of curious about his great nephew and niece, had reluctantly agreed.

And he was so glad he had. He would never say it, especially not to them, but these kids meant the world to him. He had never wanted children, even when he was younger and more sociable, but he loved being an uncle. He didn't show it often, but he'd do anything for these kids, _anything_.

It was difficult that the boy, Dipper, seemed obsessed over the supernatural and paranormal, constantly finding the weird things Stanley was always, unfortunately, running into. He tried to tell the boy that the supernatural wasn't real, to keep him safe, but he had the feeling it wasn't working. Honestly, the boy reminded him so much of his brother, it hurt sometimes. Watching Dipper and Mabel together was like gazing into the past, but the pain almost felt... Good. Knowing that the two were that close. He just hoped they ended differently than he and Ford had.

Even though it had been over thirty years since the day his brother had vanished into that portal, Stanley still diligently went down into the lab every night and worked for hours on the stupid thing. Most of the time he'd just stare at it, remembering the times he had had with his brother, reminiscing with a pained heart. It was very rarely that he'd actually work on it nowadays, what with his bad eyes and his even worse joints. It hurt him that he'd most likely never get his brother back, but he had resigned himself to that years ago.

Stanley took a drink as he thought over his life since his brother's disappearance. The years sure had been interesting for him as he got older. He had never managed to find someone to love, not in the way he had sometimes dreamed about late at night when he was alone and let his walls down. He told himself he didn't want that, didn't want to be tied down to anyone, but in truth he did sort of regret never finding someone to share his life with. But, he had known for quite a while that he'd never be able to give himself to someone completely, not while his brother was still missing. Not when he was still incomplete.

Somehow, his business was still going strong, even all these decades later. People would still show up, giving him their money and leaving with a smile on their faces. He had given up questioning it years ago; people were just idiots. It was alright for him, since it was easy money where he was concerned. Over the years he had gained and lost some employees, some better than others, some that he refused to even think about. The ones he currently had were probably the best out of the lot, though Wendy wasn't always the most diligent. Soos, at least, cared deeply about his job. He respected that about the man-child.

Another thing that had happened was that he had grown a bit closer to his family. For years after his father's death, his mother made sure to call every week and to visit every few months. It was weird at first, seeing her so much, but after a while he had gotten used to it. He always made sure to keep his hands hidden from her, though, so she wouldn't get suspicious. It was a huge blow when he had heard she died in '93. He had went to the funeral, Shermy and his family standing next to him. He had managed to go 12 years without crying, but he broke that record that day. Watching his mother, his greatest supporter other than his brother, be buried had cut deeply. He spent the entirety of the shiva mourning with his little brother and when it was over he went back home and redoubled his efforts to bring his twin back. He felt the ache for Ford more in the days following the funeral than he had in years.

If there was one good thing that happened thanks to his mother's death, it was that Shermy began speaking to him more frequently, calling every few weeks with updates about his son or his job. Stanley hadn't realized how much he had missed his little brother until they began talking regularly. When Shermy had died a couple years ago, it had been almost as devastating as losing his mother. It was painful to watch as the little brother he had grown up with, yet had never really spoken to, be lowered into the ground.

And while life had been difficult, it had also been interesting. He had grown as a person, moving passed his troubled years and making something of himself. He had reconciled with his family, he had made money; he had done everything he had set out to do when he had left his old home all those years ago.

So, he decided, even though he hadn't been able to save his twin, he didn't really regret the life he had. It was probably a lot better than if he had never come to Gravity Falls all those years ago, even if he did have to live with the crushing guilt of losing his brother. Had he never come here, he'd probably have died in his thirties, either by illness or because he hadn't been able to pay off his debts. Silver linings, he thought grimly as he looked across the yard.

He took another sip of his drink before noticing the darkening sky and the growling in his stomach. With a soft 'oomph', he stood up and called out to the twins who were now playing a weird version of tag.

"Kids! Time for dinner! Get your butts in here or else ya won't get fed!"

His two charges stopped their game and bounded over, grins on their faces as they both playfully pushed the other. He tried not to see him and his brother as he ushered the two inside.

"What are we gonna eat, Grunkle Stan?" Dipper asked as he sat down at the dining room table, his sister sitting down beside him. Stanley grunted as he searched through his fridge.

"Not sure yet. What do you kids want? I got pasta, sandwich meat, weird brown gooey stuff..." He listed, scratching absently at his shoulder. The twins frowned at each other.

"Don't you have anything else?" Dipper asked, just as his twin started bouncing up and down.

"Oooh! Oooh! I know! Can we have pancakes?" Mabel asked, grinning with wide eyes. Dipper immediately began asking for pancakes as well, even though it was six in the evening. Stanley just sighed and took out the mix, adding some water and getting to work. He had learned quickly that arguing with the two was futile when they ganged up on him like that.

When the pancakes were done cooking, he handed them to the two.

"Here ya go, pancakes. Ya can get your own syrup if ya want it." He said gruffly, sitting and eating his with only a bit of butter. Dipper got up and went over to the cupboards and got the cheap syrup that Stanley began buying when the twins had first arrived. Dipper tended to only use a conservative amount of syrup, while Mabel went hog-wild and poured nearly the entire bottle on hers. He didn't understand how anyone could eat something so sweet, but to each their own he guessed.

The dinner was nice, he had to admit, the twins filling the usual silence with animated talks about this and that. He had been alone for so long that it had been weird at first, having two enthusiastic children around him constantly. But he had to admit he enjoyed it. He almost didn't know what he'd do when the summer ended and he was alone again.

Dinner ended quickly, the twins eager to go back to playing whatever game they had created. Before they ran back outside, however, Mabel came over to him and gave him a big hug.

"Thanks Grunkle Stan! Love you!" She exclaimed before running after her brother, not noticing the stunned look from her uncle. With a soft smile, he went to the sink and began washing the dishes.

He really didn't know what he'd do without these kids. They had only been there for a few weeks and yet it had felt like they had been there for years.

That night he sat in his lab and looked at the picture he kept of the two, sighing as he leaned back in his chair. Dipper and Mabel were a bit much at times, but he loved them. He just wished that watching them together didn't hurt so Goddamn much.

* * *

He had done it. After all these years, he had finally, _finally_ , done it.

Stanley, sixty years old and shocked, stared at the machine as it started up. He almost couldn't believe it. When he had taken the journals from Dipper, he had had hope for the first time in thirty years, though he almost expected it to not work. And yet... Here he was. His greatest achievement! Soon, he would have his brother back, and all of this would have been worth it. He'd finally get to make up with Ford and that piece of him that had been missing for so long would be back. He'd finally be whole again.

He'd have to play it cool, of course. No one could find out about this and ruin it, not when he was so close. Not when he had waited thirty years for this.

It was almost infuriating how simple it was, though, once he had the journals. All he had to do was rewire the main console, then connect the console to the lever in such a specific way that it wasn't surprising he hadn't been able to guess it, but was simple to do once he knew the correct way. The portal itself he had managed to fix without the books, so at least he had done something over the past three decades...

He looked down at the third Journal, the one that his nephew had had this whole time. At least it explained why the boy was so obsessed with the paranormal... When Dipper had first shown him this book, he didn't know what to say, what to think. Especially after having found the second Journal that that little brat Gideon had. Once it sunk in that this was it, the key to getting Ford back, he almost could not contain his excitement. But then he remembered his charges and forced himself to laugh and say how it made sense where they got the nonsense about the paranormal. He felt a bit bad, ruining what was obviously something important to Dipper, but he needed to keep them safe. If they actually believed the things in this journal... He had to keep them safe. If they got hurt on his watch, he didn't know what he would do. That's why he had almost sent them back home; he couldn't take care of them and he didn't want them to suffer like he was.

Losing the shack had been, honestly, one of the most terrifying moments of his life. It was almost like losing his brother all over again. He hid it, as he hid everything that dealt with his emotions, but it had been devastating. He had given up so quickly because it was easier than dwelling on the pain. And, maybe, because part of him was relieved. To not be obligated to stay at that shack, to be constantly reminded of his brother... To be reminded of his failures. It had almost felt like freedom.

Now, though… now he had fixed the stupid machine and his brother would be back soon. He would have Ford back, and everything would be great. He knew it.

As he stared at the portal that would bring him his brother back after all these years, he tried not to think of what would happen if Ford didn't come back. Or if he came back different. Or if he still hated him. Those thoughts were too much to handle, so he ignored them, like he ignored all the bad things in his life.

Like when the twins had discovered his brother's room and began fighting over who would get it, he had ignored the ache inside of him that seeing that room (and those _glasses_ ) had caused. He didn't want the twins or Soos to know how much the room meant to him, so he hid it, playing up his carelessness by getting the twins to fight each other for the room. He had also ignored the twinge that seeing two twins who usually got along fighting had caused in him. By now, he was an expert in hiding his true feelings.

There were many times in his life that he almost wished he could feel like a 'normal' person. At this point, he had spent so much of his life hiding his emotions and his true feelings that he almost didn't know who he was anymore. Was he Stanley Pines, the rapscallion and screw-up? Was he Steve Pinington, Stetson Pinefield, Hal Forrester, or Andrew "8-Ball" Alcatraz, the failed traveling salesman who spent more time in jail than out of it? Or was he Stanford "Stan" Pines, Mr. Mystery, the fraud who had tricked everyone? He honestly didn't know anymore. He spent so much of his life hiding and running, he honesty couldn't tell you who or what he was.

But maybe, maybe once he had his twin back... Maybe he'd find out. He had only ever belonged beside his twin, so maybe when he had his twin back, he'd finally belong again. Maybe he'd be able to find out who exactly he was. Or maybe he'd just be disappointed, like he always was.

He took a deep breath and let it out, leaning back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. After a while he got back up and finished the final touches on the portal, making sure everything was perfect, once again ignoring the bleak thoughts.

He didn't know when it happened, but eventually he fell asleep at his desk, waking when the alarm clock rang at seven for his grand-reopening thing. He tried to make himself presentable, plastering his extravagant persona back on his face as he went upstairs to get dressed. He only had a handful of weeks left... He had to make sure no one suspected _anything_. He'd even give that Journal back to Dipper if the boy asked, just to keep him from looking for it. Good thing he managed to photo copy the pages he'd need to keep the portal up and running...

The grand-reopening ceremony went off without a cinch, the town eating out of the palm of his hand again. It was nice, being appreciated. The town had long since gotten used to him, so having them worship him like this was almost novel.

After the ceremony, though, when those two agents came in... That wasn't good. If they investigated the shack and found the portal, it could mean that everything he went through over the past thirty years was for naught. He sat in the lab under the shack, checking on the progress that the portal had made, needed to see the proof that it was still working.

Dipper, though, had of course wanted to speak with the agents. It was like a dog with a bone, he thought bitterly. The boy would never give up, would he? While it was annoying, he could get it. He looked at his reflection in his brother's handprint and couldn't help but think how Dipper's stubbornness reminded him of his own. Dipper was a lot like Ford, what with his determination and his love of the supernatural, but Stanley could see aspects of himself in the kid. It was probably why he was so hard on the boy. He had needed toughening up as a child so that he could come into his own, and he wanted to do that for Dipper too. Get him to realize he didn't always have to be one half of a set, that he could be his own person and do things by himself. Maybe he could have gone about it in a better way, but he never pretended to be a _perfect_ guardian.

It was only when he turned and looked at the security cameras his brother had hidden around the shack that he noticed the zombies. It was kind of a hard thing to miss, to be honest. After getting over his initial 'holy cow, there are fricken _zombies_ ' moment, he had taken his bat and his brass knuckles and high tailed it upstairs to help his knuckle-headed nephew and niece.

Fighting zombies was kind of fun, if also very tiring. He was practically panting with exertion upon reaching the twins' attic bedroom, knowing that he'd be very sore in the morning. When Dipper had started in on him not being able to deny the proof of the supernatural, he knew that he could no longer keep it all hidden from the boy. After all, the kid had all the proof he needed right outside their door. But, in his defense, this was exactly what he wanted to keep away from the boy. The paranormal and the supernatural was dangerous and was not meant for twelve year olds.

Coming clean was easier than he had thought. The kids had taken it pretty well, at least. Though… that might have been because they were getting attacked by zombies and they had bigger things to worry about. Meh, details.

Finding out the journals had hidden text was a shock. All this time, and he had never noticed. Never bothered to check. He knew his brother liked hiding things, always paranoid that someone would take his work (which, to be fair, was a legitimate concern when you had a brother like Stanley and were bullied in school). It should have been the first thing he looked for, yet over thirty years later and he was only just now learning about it. Stupid... Ah well, not much he could do about it now, he supposed.

Karaoke being the only thing to kill zombies was... Bizarre. But, he had given up questioning these things ages ago, and just sang that ridiculous song that Mabel had picked out. While he loved the kid, she had weird taste in music.

It had been nice, doing something like this with his family. Using karaoke to kill zombies was weird, but then again so was their little family. And soon he'd have his brother back and things would be how they should be.

He just had to wait.

Well, he had waited for thirty years for this. He could handle two more weeks. He had to.


	8. Chapter 8

Yay, new chapter. Sorry it's a bit late, I just spent the last 5-6 hours making a Mabel rag doll. Which, FYI, was not fun. My back and neck are not happy with the fact I spent hours sitting on the ground, hand-sewing a doll.

So this chapter is pretty much just going over the rest of A Tale of Two Stans, the part that I've not yet gone over. All the dialogue in this chapter in not my own; the writers of Gravity Falls own it.

Also. After this chapter, things are going to go off canon. I still have a scene from The Stanchurian Candidate, but other than that this story will not be following Gravity Falls story line. The reason why is that I want to end this story soon, without waiting for the show to end. I'm not going to bother predicting how the show will go; in fact, I'm positive the show will not be going the way I wrote. Hopefully what I have is good enough.

Enjoy! Please review/comment. (And thanks for all the comments/reviews yesterday. They helped inspire me to write more.)

* * *

 _~~~I know I took the path that you would never want for me  
I gave you hell through all the years~~~_

* * *

It was so close. So very, very close. Just a handful of hours left and his brother would be _back_. He'd finally see him again.

Sixty years old and feeling ready to puke, Stanley stared at the countdown, anxiety flooding through him. What would he say? What should he do? This was probably a lot more stressful than it should be, but he couldn't help it. The last time he had seen his brother they had fought, and the time before that he had gotten a figurative and somewhat literal door slammed in his face.

He had waited so long for this, and it was finally here. He continued to look up at the countdown that the machine had just started. Eighteen hours. That's all he had to wait. Eighteen hours and his brother would be home. Finally.

He stayed down in the lab for a couple more hours, making sure the portal was stable, adding more of the toxic waste into the tanks when needed. When he noticed the time, he cleaned up and exited the lab, deciding he should probably get a couple hours of sleep before the twins woke.

While he was going back upstairs to his room, he could hear the sound of children talking excitedly down the hallway. With a soft groan, he changed direction and followed the sound to see what they were so excited about. Upon reaching the area the kids were in, he saw his closet of totally legal fireworks and heard the kids saying how they were going to have a 'crazy rooftop fireworks party.' Well, let it not be said that Stanley wasn't a responsible adult. He would never let them set off those dangerous fireworks- without supervision.

Setting off fireworks with the kids was a great way to spend a Saturday, he decided. The kids were having a blast- pun intended- and it allowed him to keep his mind off of his brother's upcoming arrival. Watching the kids have a water balloon fight while he drank his Pitt Cola was also great.

There had been a moment there when he had almost wanted to tell them. He knew they would find out eventually; it's not like he could keep his brother hidden from them, after all. But he just... Couldn't. He didn't know where to begin. He also didn't want them to hate him; for lying, for who he used to be... For what he had done. Yeah, he deserved it, but he was still too afraid to tell them. So he made up a lie about refreshing his soda, hoping that everything would work out.

However, not even a minute later he was tackled by an FBI agent and then arrested. He could hear more agents stomping around, 'securing' the shack and his niece and nephew. He could feel his heart freezing as he was pulled towards the black car. Oh no. Oh no, oh no. After all this time, after coming so / _close_ /, he was going to lose it all, and all because they had caught him stealing that stupid waste. He had been so careful! Not careful enough, it seemed... He played dumb, though, insisting he didn't know what they were talking about. The kids tried to help, saying how they got the wrong guy, but it didn't stop him from getting pushed into the back of the big black car. Trying not to freak out, he saw the children looking confused and panicked, and he did his best to assuage their –and his own- fears by lying. Saying how he was innocent. He needed them to believe him. He couldn't lose them, couldn't lose their faith in him.

He spent the car ride up to the precinct coming up with ways he could get out of this but could think of nothing. He just hoped that the agents didn't find his hidden door... If they turned the portal off, it would have all been for nothing. He had to get back there, now.

For now, he'd settle on having Soos guard the doorway. He fully trusted that the handy-man would do as he asked; he just had to hope that the man-child would actually be able to go through with his duty.

He sat in the interrogation room for hours, trying to come up with a way to get out of this. When his clock chimed five hours left, he began hitting his head against the table. He had to find a way out now! He had to be there... He couldn't let his brother return home with no one around.

When the gravity stopped working for a moment, he had had the perfect idea. Of course! The anomalies would get stronger the closer to zero the countdown got, therefore all he had to do was use the time of zero gravity to escape!

He waited the next four hours in near silence, answering the agents when the spoke to him, but keeping to his story of being dumb. He could feel the anxiety and restlessness mount as the minutes passed. When the countdown showed that only thirteen minutes remained, he knew another anomaly would happen soon. He made sure to stall just long enough and as soon as the agent unhandcuffed him, the gravity weakened and he was able to escape. Paying the cab driver to drive the opposite way was a stroke of genius, if he did say so himself.

With less than five minutes left, Stanley sprinted back to the shack. He had to be there, he had to! Thirty years of guilt and heart ache had led up to this moment, he couldn't miss it!

He nearly felt his heart stop when he saw the secret door open. Oh God, did the agents find it? Running as fast as he could, he raced down the stairs and into the elevator, heart pounding. There was less than a minute left, they couldn't stop it!

When the door of the elevator opened, he rushed into the lab and saw Dipper, Mabel, and Soos crowded around the button that would end this all. He didn't even take anytime to process the scene. He just had to stop the boy from _pushing that button._

"DON'T TOUCH THAT BUTTON!" He shouted, heart thumping from the run and from the anxiety. Please, Dipper... "Dipper, just back away." The boy's hand still hovered over the button. No... "Please don't press that shutdown button, you gotta trust me." Please.

He could see the boy's face contort, anger filling his features as he began walking towards him. "And I should trust you why?! After you stole radioactive waste? After you lied to us all summer?! I don't even know who you are!"

He couldn't deny that that hurt, but he had bigger things to worry about.

"Look, I know this all seems nuts, but I need that machine to stay on! If you'd just let me explain-" Suddenly his countdown watch let out a beep. He looked down and realized that another anomaly would be happening now. "Uh-oh, oh, no! Brace yourselves!"

Suddenly they were all lifted from the ground, hanging suspended in midair. However, he could only feel a little bit of relief at the fact his nephew was away from the button. There was still thirty-five seconds left, as the computer helpfully reminded. Anything could happen, especially since Mabel was still so near the lever...

He heard Dipper screaming at his sister to shut it down and saw Mabel crawling along the wire towards the button, causing his heart to stop. He tried to get over to her.

"No! Mabel, Mabel, wait! Stop! Aah!" He screamed as Soos, of all people, knocked into him. "Soos, what're you doing?!" He hit Soos, trying to get away. "I gave you an order!"

"Sorry, Mr. Pines - if that is your real name - but I have a new mission now! Protecting these kids!"

Of course. Soos would choose _today_ of all days to grow a spine. This was just perfect! He tried to get away, only for Dipper to slam into them. No!

"Go! Mabel, press the red button! Shut it down!" His nephew screamed. No!

"No, you can't!" He shoved Dipper away from him, trying to reach Mabel in time. "You gotta trust me!"

"Grunkle Stan," the girl choked out, crying heavily, "I don't even know, if you're my grunkle! I wanna believe you, but-"

Stanley could feel his heart clench at the look on her face. He had to get her to believe him. Please, Mabel...

"Then listen to me. Remember this morning when I said I wanted to tell you guys something?" He began, only to get interrupted by the computer. A second later the portal flashed white, pushing Dipper, Soos, and himself against the wall, while Mabel raised her hand to push the button. Stop!

"I wanted to say that you're gonna hear some bad things about me, and some of them are true, but trust me. Everything I've worked for, everything I care about, it's all for this family!" Please believe him. She had to believe him. Come on, Mabel...

"Mabel, what if he's lying? This thing could destroy the universe! Listen to your head!"

"Look into my eyes, Mabel! You really think I'm a bad guy?" She couldn't. She loved him. She said so. If she thought he was lying... Dipper he could understand, the boy didn't trust easily; he was just like Stanford that way. But Mabel...

"He's lying! Shut it down NOW!"

"Mabel, please!"

The computer counted down as Mabel looked at him. He tried to convey everything in his eyes, begging her to just _trust him._ Mabel... She looked away, only to look back at him.

"Grunkle Stan..." Six, five... "I trust you." Lifting her hand, she floated up and away from the lever, causing Stanley's heart to soar. She trusted him! And now, nothing would stop this. Nothing would prevent his brother from returning.

"MABEL, ARE YOU CRAZY?! WE'RE ALL GONNA-" Dipper began, only to get interrupted by a huge explosion of light. They all started screaming as they got blasted, the bright light blinding them. It was here. He was coming.

When the light faded, Stanley could see a figure standing in the entrance of the portal. It couldn't be... It was. It had to be. His heart stopped as he watched the figure emerge, walking forward and picking up the journal that had fallen into the floor. It was him...

"What...? Who is that?" He heard Dipper asked.

"The author of the Journals." He said breathlessly. "My brother."

* * *

To be fair, it wasn't like he wasn't expecting to get punched. Truthfully, he probably deserved a lot worse. It didn't stop him from feeling incredulous, though, that his brother didn't even give a small "hey, thanks for spending thirty years of your life trying to save me from a hell dimension."

Sixty years old and kind of peeved, Stanley scowled at his twin, his jaw sore and aching.

"Oh! Ow! What the heck was that for?!" He shouted. Seriously, he got no thanks? Jeez, what did a guy have to do...?

"This was an insanely risky move, restarting the portal! Didn't you read my warnings?!" Stanford shouted back, scowling and waving his arms.

Stanley scoffed. Did his brother really think he'd let a couple warnings stop him from getting his twin back?

When his brother shouted how he wouldn't give him the thanks that _he deserved_ , Stanley had had enough. He tried to take a swing at his twin, only for Stanford to side step and grab him from behind. Well, that's not how it used to go...

He had just been wrestled to the ground, his brother pinning his arms behind his back, when Mabel made her presence known and demanded to know what was going on. A reasonable request, he'd allow.

Stanford, ever the gentleman, let him go immediately upon realizing children were in the room and, after a quick introduction that he helpfully supplied, began talking to the children, being his usual nerdy self.

The kids ate it up though, especially Dipper, who was practically hyperventilating at the chance to meet "The Author." Stanley didn't really get why. So the man had written about weird supernatural mumbo jumbo. Big deal. Nothing that needed such hero worship over.

After the very brief introduction had happened, his brother had of course rounded on him and demanded to know who else knew about the portal. After admitting he might have allowed the whole U.S. government to learn about it, his brother had been a bit upset. Luckily, they had bigger things to worry about and so Stanford hadn't dwelt on it too long. But then, of course, his brother had to go on and say his name. The name he hadn't been called in over thirty years. The name that would, of course, catch the attention of the children.

When everyone had rounded on him, demanding the truth, he had known the jig was up. He had to come clean, tell them his life story... This was not going to be fun, he knew.

But he did it. He told them everything, starting from his and his brother's childhood and how different the two were yet how well they got along, up to his failures as a traveling salesman. He made sure to leave out the time he spent in jail, or all the times he spent lying around wallowing in his pain and misery. The kids- and Stanford- didn't need to know that. They didn't need to know how much he had struggled.

When his brother began talking about his life, he made sure to listen. It was as he figured, of course. While he may not have gone to a prestigious nerd college, he still did very well at the college he did go to, getting that grant Stanley had heard about all those years ago. It kind of hurt to know his brother had never bothered to keep tabs on him, like he had done for him. But then, he had always known that. His brother had stopped caring about him a long time ago. Why did he bother to try and hope differently?

When the story got up to the point when Stanford had contacted him, Stanley took over, telling how he had come to the little town and how he had made the worst mistake of his life. He also told them how and why he had taken over his brother name and life. And how he had spent the next thirty years trying his hardest to bring his brother back. Though, he thought bitterly, he was beginning to wonder why, when his brother wasn't even the slightest bit grateful.

When the story was finally over, Dipper apologized for doubting him, which he accepted. He didn't blame the kid for not trusting him. He wouldn't have trusted himself, either.

A second later, though, they heard a shout from upstairs. He felt a jolt of shock go through him as he remembered the FBI agents. He had been so invested in telling his story he had forgotten about them.

Luckily, Dipper had the idea of erasing their memories. He wasn't quite sure what the gun thing was, but he trusted his nephew and brother to know what to do, and did as they said.

Once the agents were gone and things were quieting down, he ignored the younger twins' protests and sent the children to bed so that he could speak to his brother in private. He needed to talk to Stanford alone, needed to know if he truly hated him still. Because, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how illogical it was, he still loved his twin. And it killed him to know that his brother didn't feel that way about him. That his brother hated him.

But, once they were finally alone, he didn't know what to say. Thirty years of waiting, and he was stumped. Unsure of what else to say, he made some offhand remark about how old they were, and felt relieved when his brother replied, even it was to say how he looked like their father. While he didn't like the comparison, he was glad that they could speak freely, that they had shared a laugh. But then, his brother had to ruin it by saying how he would take the one good thing he had ever done, leaving him high and dry, like he had feared. It stung badly.

"You really aren't gonna thank me, are you?" He asked, sadness filling him. He waited a beat, wanting to see if his brother would change his mind and thank him. When that didn't happen, he could feel that age-old bitterness fill him again. "Fine. On one condition; you stay away from the kids. I don't want them in danger. 'Cause as far as I'm concerned, they're the only family I have left."

With that, he turned and left, heading upstairs to his room. He paused on the staircase and looked back, feeling the sadness once more, before finishing the climb. He felt a bit bad about saying that, but he was beginning to fear that it was true. The twins were all he had, and he'd be thrice damned before anything happened to them.

Once in his room, he sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. He felt like crying. He wouldn't, of course. He wasn't a sissy. But still...

It wasn't the worst scenario that he had imagined, but it was pretty close. He had hoped so much, that his brother would be glad to see him. That thirty years had been enough time to heal their wounds. That they could go back to being siblings again. But he was wrong. And now he was stuck with a brother who hated him, a life that was quickly dismantling before his eyes, and a pain in his heart that refused to ever leave. He had saved his brother, but at what cost?

He let out a frustrated sigh as he flopped onto his back, groaning in pain as his muscles protested. He had run fast today, which had not helped his joints or muscles at all. Typical.

This was turning into a disaster. The kids barely trusted him anymore. Everything was in shambles. What could he do to fix things? _Could_ he fix things? What was he supposed to do?! He had done everything right! He had been the good brother and had fixed his mistake, bringing his twin back! What more did the universe want from him?! What more did he have to give?! He fisted the covers as he grit his teeth, feeling his heart constrict painfully. He almost hoped that it was a heart attack. At least then he'd be away from this stupid situation.

But there would be no easy way out. Not this time. He'd have to go through this the hard way. He'd have to deal with seeing his brother every day, knowing that they were broken beyond repair.

And it would hurt. God, he knew it would hurt. But then, he was used to pain at this point. It was his one and only companion, after all.


	9. Chapter 9

New chapter, up. And, mostly on time today. Cool.

The beginning of this chapter is non-canon. I originally wrote this chapter before the Stanchurian Candidate had come out, and had only written the second half of it after the episode had come out. So there might be a bit of clunkiness between the end of this chapter and the beginning of the next one (which was originally the end of this chapter). Just a warning.

Also, this chapter was hell on me to write, since I first wrote it when I was really sick. It made no sense and was just bad, overall. I've managed to edit it enough that I'm happy with it, but there might be some parts of the first section that seem a bit off, and that's why. The same problem with the next chapter, but I've also managed to rewrite that one, so I don't think it should be a problem... I hope. Also, next chapter is the climax, so things are gonna get heated. But don't worry; things end happily. And, there will be some fluff, soon.

Oh! I feel I should mention that I've finished the story! I still have to edit the ending and add the mini epilogue, but it at least has an end. And considering I hardly ever finish things, this is a shock and a relief. It only took me 3 weeks to write this whole story, which is pretty cool to me. It has about 30,000 words, which is also cool. Second longest thing I've ever written, and the longest thing I've ever finished.

Anyway, enough rambling. Enjoy! And remember to review/comment! (And thanks to those of you who commented and reviewed last chapter. To those who commented on AO3, sorry that I've not replied; I don't like the fact it puts more comments on my story, feeling like it's cheating, or something. I hope I managed to answer all of your questions above, though.)

* * *

~~~Don't tell me that I'm wrong~~~  
~~~I've walked that road before~~~  
~~~And left you on your own~~~

* * *

He stared at his brother's back, a frown on his mouth and a pain in his heart. He knew it was just a dream, but it didn't make his heart hurt any less.

Sixty years old and weary, Stanley tried to say something, anything, but nothing would come out. He could only stare in silence as his brother walked farther and farther away, leaving him alone; abandoned. He could feel darkness flowing into the room around him, its icy claws sinking straight through to his heart. He tried once more to speak, to shout, to do anything other than stand there and _stare_ , but nothing he did worked. The dream ended as they always did nowadays: his brother fading away while he remained trapped in place.

When he awoke, his heart thudding and cold sweat on his skin, he slipped out of bed and put on his robe, doing his best to not dwell on what his dream meant or what it implicated. He had stopped paying attention to them years ago anyway, after the thousandth time he had watched his brother slip into the stupid portal. There was a quote by some wizard that Dipper liked about not dwelling on dreams or something like that. He could live by that rule.

The past few days had been hell on him, he thought as he felt the weariness flood through him. Seeing his brother, exchanging words with him, having him so close, and yet having this mile long wedge driven between them was excruciating. He wished everything could just go back to the way it was before. He didn't even care which 'before' he was talking about. Anything was better than this.

Though… it was kind of nice that Dipper had someone he could be all nerdy with. Stanley had never noticed how much the boy needed someone like his brother to talk to and do geeky things with. It made sense, he guessed. He had always thought that the boy was almost too much like Stanford for his own good. Seeing the two get along was somewhat concerning, but he supposed he'd just have to trust his brother to keep the boy safe.

The only problem was that his brother was very reckless, more reckless than he was at times. Whenever the supernatural was addressed, Stanford would lose all reason and would sometimes forget that not everyone understood his thoughts. They had both gotten hurt many times when they were kids because of it. So Stanley wasn't quite sure his brother would remember that Dipper was only a boy and keep him safe. But he supposed he would just have to trust, if the two continued spending time together. It was clear that the two both desperately needed someone who had similar hobbies as they did.

Though, it did kind of made him wonder how it would have been, had he understood his brother's geeky side better as a kid. Had he been able to speak to his brother on an equal intellectual playing field. Maybe they would have worked better. Maybe they both could have gone to that nerd college. Maybe things wouldn't have turned out so terribly. That was one thought that made everything even worse, that made his stomach churn bitterly. The thought that things might have turned out okay, if only he were smarter. If he hadn't been so stupid.

However, the worst thing about this whole situation, he thought as he entered the kitchen and began cooking breakfast, was how awkward everything was. It might not have seemed like it, but that was what got him the most. How whenever he spoke to his twin, whenever they were in the same room together… they were stilted. It was like they were supposed to fit, yet didn't, and the world didn't quite know why. He wanted to fix things, but he was too stubborn to try. He wasn't going to bother if Stanford didn't want to bother. Perhaps that was their problem. He didn't want to try and Stanford didn't care enough to try. They had reached a standstill and it was eating him alive.

Stanley had to shake off the melancholy thoughts when he heard two pairs of feet thundering down the stairs, two bright and excited faces popping into the room a few second later. He couldn't let them see his pain. He couldn't let anyone see it. He refused to show such a weakness.

"Morning Grunkle Stan!" Mabel chimed happily as she took her seat, her ridiculous pig getting its own spot beside her. Dipper echoed his sister as he too sat down. Stanley nodded towards them in acknowledgement and finished plating their food, placing their breakfast before them a second later. He scratched his shoulder absently as he sat down.

"There ya go. Eggs, sunny-side up." He grunted, shoveling eggs in his mouth. "And Mabel, what have I said about the pig eating at the breakfast table?"

"Waddles has as many rights as we do, Grunkle Stan! He deserves to sit with us at the table." Mabel replied with a small pout. Stanley just let out a small groan and shook his head, giving up quickly as he continued to eat his food; though, he made sure to crunch his bacon with just a bit more force than needed, eying the pig spitefully. He didn't understand why she loved the pig so much. All it did was sit around and eat. But whatever.

Soon after, a comfortable silence fell over the table, everyone eating their breakfast in peace. Mabel was concentrating on some knitting pattern she was working on while Dipper simply ate, though the kid kept shifting, like he was excited about something. Stanley, not thinking much of it, simply finished his toast and drank some of the cheap orange juice.

A few minutes later, Dipper spoke. "So, I'm going to be spending the day with Great Uncle Ford." He said casually, looking up from his eggs almost shyly, though with that same poorly concealed excitement. Stanley stopped eating and frowned, putting his full attention on the boy. He had known the kid long enough to know that this was his way of asking permission; stating he was going to do something while still looking towards him to make sure it was okay. The kid rarely listened to him if he got denied, but it seemed to make him feel better about doing it.

Stanley mulled over the statement in his head, not sure if he should complain about it or not. On one hand, he knew the boy needed someone who understood his nerdiness to talk to. On the other hand, the kid wanted to spend time with his brother, potentially putting himself in danger. It was kind of a close call.

"You're not going out into those woods, are ya?" He questioned suspiciously. He really didn't want his nephew in the woods alone with his brother. It was too dangerous.

Dipper shook his head, though he was still smiling. "No, don't worry. We're just going to be talking in the basement. Great Uncle Ford promised to teach me about some of Gravity Falls' secrets!" The boy exclaimed, a huge grin settling on his face as he bounced slightly. Stanley looked at the boy, before looking over towards the boy's twin, to see what her reaction to this was. He was surprised to see Mabel frowning at her twin before plastering on a smile, one that he could tell was fake, knowing her real smiles well enough by now to tell the difference. He felt his own frown deepen at the sight.

"That's great, Bro-bro! You're finally gonna get to talk with The Author!" She chirped happily, even if it was a little forced. "What are you gonna ask about first?"

The children went on, blathering about what Dipper would ask and how exciting it all was. He still didn't quite get the appeal, but it was clear it made them excited. Though, he'd probably have to watch after Mabel. He wasn't quite sure he liked that initial frown and fake smile. After all, he knew what it was like, getting left behind while 'the smart one' did something nerdy. It was never fun.

After breakfast, the male twin left to go down into the basement while the female twin remained upstairs with him, chattering lightly about her friends. She took out her knitting needles and began to make a maroon colored sweater, with what he assumed would be a bright golden hand in the center, judging on the colors and the twins' shared obsession. Three guesses as to who that would be for...

Stanley stayed with the kid for a while, surfing through the TV channels, but had to leave at nine to open the Mystery Shack. Even if the Shack wouldn't be his for much longer, he'd continue to run it as he'd always done. Use the time he had left wisely, maybe save up some money. While he wouldn't give up the Shack without a fight, he inevitably knew that if it was a question of who rightfully owned the Shack, it would be his brother. Even if he had lived in it and paid for it for thirty years, he had always known just who the shack belonged to.

Out in the store he put on his usual show for the costumers. The Shack had just reopened after all of the repairs the day before, which meant he could go back to making a living (on something other than his crimes, of course). He showed off his unique creatures and told his made up stories. The tourists ate it up as usual, oohing and ahhing at the right moments. There were less tourists than normal, which he chalked that up to the fact the town itself was still in repair. That portal really had taken its toll. He refused to feel bad about it, however. He had made a promise to get his brother back, and that he did. It didn't matter that the town he had come to love was collateral damage.

At around twelve, Stanley closed the shop and went to the kitchen to get started on lunch. Now, he didn't usually stop for lunch, preferring to let the kids forage for themselves while he ate a pre-made sandwich, but today he wanted to actually make something for them. Something special, something that would maybe make up for everything that had happened. And it wasn't just because he feared that he would lose their love now that Stanford was back and they had him to look up to and idolize. He just felt like doing something nice for his charges; trying to make amends, that's all.

Mabel was still sitting in the living room when he entered, watching a rerun of Ducktective and working on her sweater, which, as he had predicted, had a six fingered golden hand in the center. He snorted softly as he entered the kitchen and got the ingredients he would need. Of course.

After a few minutes of him working in silence, Mabel came in, curious. He tensed somewhat, not wanting her in there and ruining his apology lunch. While it wasn't supposed to be a surprise, exactly, he didn't want her questioning his change of habit. He had always hated it when people called him out for doing 'nice' things. What, like he couldn't be a decent guy every now and then?

"Hey Grunkle Stan. Why are you here?" She asked, her head tilted slightly as she moved to stand next to him, looking at the various sandwich meats he had out for his apology lunch. "Is something wrong with the Shack?"

"Nah. Just felt like making you two lunch. What, ya got a problem with that?" He retorted, just a tad defensive as he got called out, his shoulders hunching closer to his body as he put the bread he was holding into the toaster. He watched the girl frown briefly, which caused him to regret his harsh words (after all, it's not like she meant anything by it. She wasn't like his brother who had always doubted his attempts to make amends. He didn't need to be so defensive), before she shrugged and grinned brightly.

"Nope. Can I help?" She questioned, bouncing up and down in excitement. Stanley, a little surprised but pleasantly so, shrugged.

"Uh, sure. Get yourself a step stool and ya can help put the meat on the bread, alright?"

The girl did as was asked and proceeded to place the meat that he would indicate onto the sandwiches. It kind of ruined the apology lunch thing, if she was helping, but whatever. While she did that, he absently went to the fridge and got out some old, but still good, mayonnaise and began putting it on a few of the sandwiches, the ones he had made before the girl had walked in. Mabel wrinkled her nose at the stuff.

"Ewwww. Grunkle Stan, why are you using the mayo? No one likes it, not even you!" She exclaimed, her face still scrunched up as she looked at the stuff. He hunched his shoulders again as he placed the jar back in the fridge, his face heating up just slightly as he got called out on his subconscious action. He hadn't even meant to do it. The original recipe for the sandwiches had called for mayo, even though he had never like the stuff. Stanford always had, though.

"I dunno." He mumbled. He would have left it at that, but he could tell the girl was still confused and, feeling bad for snapping earlier, decided to explain farther. "Ford used to like the stuff."

As he said that, he could see Mabel's eyes go wide as her mouth opened in understanding, before her grin returned, brighter than before. He scowled slightly, not liking the conclusion she had most likely come up with.

"Oh! Okay!" She chimed, going back to her duties with a happy bounce. He rolled his eyes, but did the same, though without the bouncing. He swore the kid would overdose on sugar one of these days.

The two worked together in companionable silence for several minutes as they made the sandwiches, Mabel humming some song that he had never heard before. He had to confess that he enjoyed this. He had always liked Mabel, her outgoing personality making her hard to dislike. Doing something with her was… nice. Even if it was as mundane as making sandwiches.

Once they were done, they brought the finished products to the dining room table. The food looked good, he was pleased to find. Most of his things turned out hap-hazard at best, so he was glad his apology sandwiches turned out okay. He had to discourage his niece from placing glitter on them, though.

"I'll go and get our siblings. You stay here, got it?" He said gruffly, waiting for her agreement before going back out into the shack's main area and walking down the too familiar stairs and elevator.

He could hear the two talking before he saw them, the pair sitting down around the main console area, Stanford waving his arms around as he described something to an enraptured Dipper. Stanley ignored the pang in his heart seeing them together caused as he cleared his throat, wanting to get the attention of the two. A second later, though, he had to put his arms up into a surrender position when Stanford's hand went immediately to a holster he had on his belt. Still jumpy, he thought humorlessly.

"Whoa, easy there, Poindexter. Just me. Wanted to know if you two wanted lunch or not." He said taciturnly, a frown developing on his face as he took in the diagrams and drawings he saw all over the walls. The two had obviously been in the middle of something. He was starting to regret coming down here and interrupting the two nerds, the squirming in his gut intensifying. He tried to block the thoughts of how if he had only understood this stuff better, maybe he wouldn't be so awkward around his twin. Or his great nephew.

Stanford put his hand down and relaxed when he saw that it wasn't an intruder, though he frowned as he took in the unwanted visitor. Dipper, however, smiled and gave a small wave hello.

"What did you make?" The boy asked as he stood up, stretching lightly. "And I thought you were working. Who's currently running the Shack?"

"No one. I closed for lunch. And your sister and I made some sandwiches, if you're interested." He grunted, scratching his shoulder absently like he sometimes did when he was uncomfortable. He stopped, though, when he saw Stanford's eyes zero in and track his hand, immediately slapping it down to his side. His shoulders hunched up once again. "Look, if you don't want 'em, fine. Whatever. I'm sure Mabel and I can eat 'em by ourselves."

"I'll have some." Dipper said quickly, walking over to Stanley and smiling shyly up at him. "We could use a break anyway. Is that alright, Great Uncle Ford?" The boy called back towards the other man. Stanford just continued to frown, before shrugging and packing their things up.

"If you want to, Dipper. We can pick up where we left off after lunch then." His brother replied, standing up straight, his face neutral. Stanley held in a sigh as he took in the position. That was Stanford's 'I'm uncomfortable but will do this because I must' stance. He hated that it was being applied to a simple lunch between them and their family.

The small group went into the elevator soon after, the silence almost deafening him. He could feel the tension that his twin had, his muscles so tightly wound that he was surprised that they didn't just snap. Stanley simply hoped that Dipper wasn't picking up on the tense atmosphere, not wanting the boy to get pulled into their issues. He'd rather tap dance on burning hot coals than involve the children in this fight he had with his brother.

When the elevator opened, Stanford shouldered past the two and marched up the stairs and into the kitchen, Dipper and him following behind. Mabel greeted her brother warmly as he took his seat beside her, the two beginning to chat over something or other. Stanley, with no other option, took his seat beside Stanford, shoulders tense as he grabbed a sandwich, his twin just as tense beside him. The awkwardness was back and he hated it so much.

When he noticed his brother hadn't taken anything, simply sitting by his side with a frown, he gestured over to the sandwiches he had made with mayo.

"Those are for you." He said gruffly, taking a bite of his own. Stanford jolted slightly before nodding tersely and taking one. He took a bite and Stanley saw his brother's eyes widened slightly in shock at the taste. He could feel a smirk form on his face at the expression, proud that he had gotten the recipe right. He had thought he had, but that just confirmed it.

"These are moms, aren't they?" Stanford asked after he had swallowed, something akin to amazement on his face as he took another bite. Stanley's smirk turned into bittersweet smile at the look. It had been a while since he had seen that expression on his brother's face.

"Good, huh? Ma taught me how to make 'em, several years back. Said she remembered how much we liked 'em as kids and wanted me ta know how ta make 'em." He explained, though he left out the part where their mother had taught him mainly because she had hoped he might have given her grandkids one day, and that he could have made the sandwiches for them. It wasn't important, not when his brother was almost smiling, the nostalgia clear on his face.

He honestly hadn't intended for the sandwiches to be a reminder of their past; in fact, he had made them almost automatically, simply knowing that the recipe was good and that good food helped make people more forgiving or something like that. It was perfect 'I'm sorry for lying to you all summer, please forgive me' food. He was glad, though, that they could remind his twin of better times. Maybe this would help them mend things?

Yet that small hope was dashed when the moment of remembrance died a second later, his brother's smile souring and turning somewhat bitter, his gaze on the sandwiches almost angry. He watched as Stanford put the sandwich down and stood up abruptly, feeling his heart clench.

"I just remembered that I'm not particularly hungry. Now, if you all will excuse me, I'll be down in the lab. Dipper, feel free to join me whenever you're ready." He said tersely, jerkingly walking away a moment later. Stanley felt his heart twist as he watched his twin leave, putting his own sandwich down, his appetite lost. He looked over towards the younger set of twins, only to see them watching him with confused concern. He made sure to mask his emotions and raised an eyebrow at the children.

"What are you two looking at? Finish your lunch. I've got to open the Shack again soon, so hurry up." He grunted, folding his arms and hunching his shoulders, a scowl on his face as he stared down at the sandwiches. He didn't even care that he was potentially ruining things with the kids even more. He was getting tired of having to watch his brother leave him.

The children did as he demanded, hurriedly finishing before rushing off to some corner of the shack together, speaking softly yet passionately as they went. Stanley groaned as he got up and started putting the leftovers in the fridge. He went back to work and tried to ignore the gaping hole in his gut. To think, he had once thought that hole would be filled by his brother's return. Now, it had just gotten worse.

None of this was fair, he thought grimly as he restocked the gift shop, Soos chattering away as usual. He had waited for so long, done everything right, and yet life was still punishing him.

Maybe he was just cursed.

* * *

When he first learned that the kids had been mind-controlling him, he didn't really want to believe it. The only reason he had been doing well was because two _children_ had been controlling him? Once it sunk in, though, he had felt betrayed.

Sixty years old and angry, Stanley stormed out of Greasy's Diner, anger and hurt raging inside of him.

How dare they?! Not only did they take this from him, they showed that they really didn't care about him at all. They had just cared about winning. And yeah, maybe he would have failed at the polls, but at least he would have done it _as himself._ He'd rather lose for being himself than win because someone else was speaking for him. He used to hate it when Stanford would speak for him as a child, trying to soften his blunt comments. He was who he was; if anyone didn't like it, too bad!

Not to mention it was his brother's invention that made it at all possible for them to take control of his mind. And here he was, hoping that maybe they could eventually fix things. Ha! His brother had been involved in a plot to control him. And honestly, just why did Stanford even have a mind control device? Shouldn't things like that be illegal or something? It sure felt like it should be, if the squirming in his gut was any attest. Also, why did he let two twelve year olds use it? How could his brother be so irresponsible when he's supposed to be the smart one?

Thinking of his brother, however, just made Stanley feel even worse about everything. Why did his brother have to be so darn perfect? He knew the kids would end up loving him more. Everyone did. Stupid, perfect, golden Stanford Pines. They thought that his brother would make a great mayor after only knowing him for a little over a week, yet they thought he would crash and burn? It stung how little faith his own niece and nephew had in him.

And, worst of all, now he had to come up with a strategy to win this stupid election. Because apparently he hadn't been winning at all. He had just been used. He tried not to think of the implications of that as he reached the shack and climbed the stairs to his room. Well, he'd show them! He's show them that he could get elected without their stupid mind-control device! He was Stanley Pines. He could do anything he set his mind to. He had managed to save his brother, hadn't he? He could do this. He might not be a good man, but he was sure he'd be a good mayor. All mayors were corrupt and crooked, right? So he had that in his favor.

It was harder than he had thought, though, trying to come up with his own speech. He labored with it for thirty minutes before giving up and deciding to wing it. Honestly, who needed a speech? He had this election in the bag. He was likable- right?

Apparently, wrong. Stanley stared out at the crowd as they booed him, feeling that age old steel bind on his heart.

What was he doing wrong? He was answering the questions honestly! What else did they want from him? What, did they want him to be something he wasn't? Would they prefer it if he was _Ford_ , the genius, the flawless? Yeah, it seemed they weren't the only ones.

When 'Soos' did his speech, he tried his hardest to keep from breaking the podium. When he had first seen him as the new candidate, it had smarted. How dare those kids?! What had he done to make them hate him so much? Why would they purposely try and take this from him, even more than they already had? Did winning really matter more to them than their Grunkle? He tried to hide his emotions, but it was harder than it usually was. He had trusted those kids. He had really thought they loved him. Why was he always so, so wrong?

When he lost all of his approval rating, though, he started to wish that he had listened to them. Maybe if he had taken their advice in the first place, they never would have taken control of him. Maybe he would have won on his own violation. Maybe they would still care about him. But… but he had really wanted to win without help. Because then he could prove that he was just as good as Stanford. That he mattered too. Yet he had messed it up and now he would lose. Story of his life.

Once the intermission was over, he was all prepared to get crushed again when he had heard the screams of his niece and nephew. Seeing the two of them hanging from the nose of the late mayor was probably one of the more terrifying moments of his life, up there with watching his brother float away from him. He barely had to think about it before he called off the election and ran to get to his charges. He would save them. There would be no point in living if he didn't.

He reached the monument in no time, climbing up the scaffolding of the stone carving and fighting off those stupid birds, before jumping up on the face of the deceased mayor. He could see the rope fraying and, with his heart nearly bursting out of his chest, dove and caught the rope right as it broke. Thank goodness that he had kept up with his upper body strength over the years, he thought in relief as he pulled the children up into his arms. He apologized, they apologized… things were good now. And if he could still feel that bitterness over the fact they had used him, well, he'd ignored worse things over the years.

Though, he didn't have much time to think over everything, since there was still the issue of being in a monument that was about to explode. He saw Bud holding the detonation box and knew that they would have to jump, possibly killing them in the process. Well, just as long as he saved the kids and got a bigger tomb-stone than Stanford, he'd be happy. Or, not happy, as death kind of sucked, but at least his death wouldn't be in vain. And he'd be a hero, so there was that.

But he didn't die, and neither did the children; instead, the ridiculous bird seeds had broken their fall. He could feel his muscles aching from the exertion and from the fall, though. He was getting ready to get up when the eagle that was meant to "bestow a birdly kiss" upon the winner flew over and kissed his head gently, before flying off again. Deciding to make sure the kids were alright before feeling anything about that, he picked himself and the children up and out of the bird seed, discreetly making sure there wasn't anything visibly wrong with them. Once he was sure they were okay, he fixed his clothing and stared out at the townspeople, who were staring at him in silence. The silence lasted only a minute longer before a huge cheer for him (Mayor Pines!) was let out.

He had done it, he thought dumbly. For once in his life, he, Stanley Pines, had won. And not just some stupid boxing medal; an actual election. Something official. Something that proved he had done something with his life.

Even finding out that he wouldn't actually be mayor didn't hinder his elation too much. Yeah, being mayor would have been cool, but the fact that he had even won in the first place was great enough for him. And, he thought as Mabel handed him the sash that read 'Our Hero,' maybe he didn't need anything official. Maybe he just needed the love and admiration of two children whom he loved with all his heart. Maybe that would be enough.

He just hoped that Stanford wouldn't steal them from him. Yeah, maybe they loved him now, but they still had the rest of the summer. And Stanford always was the better of the two. It was possible that once the day was over the kids would forget what he had done and would go back to worshipping his brother. He hoped that wouldn't be the case, but deep down, he feared it. That Stanford would take this from him, too.

But for now he would revel in their love. He would grin and laugh and help them vandalize the new mayor's mansion, and not think about it until later. He would be happy for this one minute.

For this day, he was a hero. And that was amazing.


	10. Chapter 10

(Side note: Hey, sorry that I didn't post yesterday; something was up with FF . Net. I wasn't able to access my account, which was a problem. It's fine now, so now I can post. I'll post the next chapter later today. :-) Now onto the Author Note I wrote yesterday...)

New chapter up. ^-^

So, this chapter is the climax. This chapter, and the remaining two, are completely non-canon. This is my way of resolving things between the brothers.

Just remember: Things must get worse, before they can get better.

Also, the lyrics no longer match up with my content... Adding the Stanchurian Candidate messed things up. Sorry.

Oh! I have a question for all of you, and I'd really appreciate it if you would answer it. So, today I had the idea of writing a companion piece to this story, told completely in Ford's perspective. I'd be going over the same things I did in this story (ages 12, 15, 18, 22, etc.) just a couple different scenes and told in Ford's view and thoughts. Most likely, it would be a lot shorter than this story, but I think it would be a neat idea. I'd also be going over what I think Ford went through, when he was in the portal. If you think this sounds interesting and you'd like to read it, please let me know. (It also won't be quite as angsty, I don't think... Ford strikes me as less depressed than Stan, so I don't think I'd write him as doom and gloom as I did Stan.)

Anyway, please enjoy this chapter. And remember to review/comment! :-)

* * *

 _~~~And please believe them when they say~~~  
~~~That it's left for yesterday~~~_

* * *

Things had been going so well, Stanley thought grimly as he stared at his brother, who was gripping the dining room table tightly, his back taut with tension.

Sixty years old and tired, Stanley tried to say something that would rectify this, yet nothing would come to mind.

The past few days had been good for him. Following his failed mayor candidacy, the kids had been warmer towards him, hugging him and including him in their little games (even if he was a bit too old to be playing, it was nice to be included). For once he had felt really appreciated. While he had always known in his heart that the kids loved him, he did question it at times and this helped confirm it in his mind. It had been a while since someone had loved him, so it had felt so good to feel safe in the knowledge.

He had also had more people come to the shack, still impressed by his bravery (though some were a bit wary about his long list of crimes. So what he had a record; it wasn't his fault the government made everything he needed to do to make money illegal.) The publicity had boosted merch sales by forty percent, which had made him elated.

The only problem was that things with his brother were still strained. Stanford spent most of his days down in the basement, coming up only to get food or to use the bathroom, so Stanley rarely saw his twin. But when he did, things were awkward and cold. It seemed Stanford was getting more and more agitated as the days passed and Stanley had no clue how to fix it.

It was when his brother had an accident in the lab right as he had finished taking a group around the shack that tensions had reached their peak. The miniature explosion that sounded from below had caused black plumes of smoke to rise through the floorboards, causing panic amongst the costumers. In their panic, they had destroyed several of his exhibits and his products, leaving before he could charge any of them for the damage.

He had felt anger flood through him as he had looked around his- once again destroyed- shack and had rounded on his brother, who had come out of the secret entrance coughing and blackened from smoke.

Now, he hadn't meant to antagonize his brother. He really hadn't. He had just been exasperated and kind of pissed. He hadn't meant to start a fight, and yet there they were, Stanford with his back to him, tense with concealed fury. Could he ever catch a break?

"It is not my fault that my experiment did not work. I was trying to fix the mess that _you_ made. Perhaps if you don't want my work to interrupt yours, you shouldn't have it _in my house_." The man bit out, his voice taut and low.

Stanley inwardly sighed as he put his hands up in a placating manner. Great. His brother was starting in on the 'you stole my house, my name, my life, blah blah blah' thing. Yes, it was bad. Couldn't he just move on already?

"Look, whatever, okay? Just don't do it again. I still have to pay for this house, so try not to ruin my work, alright? We're runnin' out of money, what with all the repairs, and we can't afford to lose anymore." He said offhandedly, trying to calm his brother. Stanford, however, tensed up even more. Definitely not the right thing to say…

"Well, perhaps if you hadn't taken over my name, I could find a way to get us money without scamming people." Stanford shot back at him, removing his hands from the table but still tense.

Well, it was clear that Stanford was in fighting mood today, he thought as a small scowl found its way onto his face. He had noticed the suppressed anger in his twin over the past few days. He supposed that today it was finally bubbling over. He didn't want to fight, but he wasn't going to bow down. He never pretended to be the 'bigger person' after all.

"Well, sorry. I had been trying to bring you back from wherever the hell you were, I wasn't quite worried about the consequences using your name would cause. We already agreed that once the summer was over, you get your name back, so no harm no foul, alright?"

"No. Not 'no harm no foul.' You stole my name- my life- with little to no thought. But, then again, you never do think about consequences, do you Stanley? For anything. If you did, you never would have opened that Portal again, even after I had written that it would cause problems, instead leaving me to clean up after you, like always."

Yep. The name thing. And the portal. Again. His scowl deepened as he crossed his arms. Why couldn't his brother just be grateful? And why couldn't he just let it go? Oh, he almost forgot; this was Stanford he was talking about. The man never let _anything_ go.

"Excuse me? I would think you should be just a bit more grateful, Poindexter, seeing as how I opened that portal to _save you_ , if you would care to recall. Ya know, ya wouldn't even be back here if it wasn't for me." He said, annoyance bubbling under his skin. He still really didn't want to get into a fight with his brother, not after what had happened the last time, but he wasn't about to listen as the man told him, once again, that he should never have opened that portal. Stanford had been back for over a week now and he had yet to hear even a simple 'thanks'. It was starting to get on his nerves.

Stanford's face contorted, a scowl marring his features as he finally turned to face him, standing straight as he stared down at Stanley. His 'I'm superior to you, you're just a bug on my windshield' look. Stanley _hated_ that look.

"Why on earth would I be grateful? You shouldn't have opened the portal. I put, specifically, that it would only bring about trouble, yet you ignored me, like you always do! You want to know _why_ I'm not grateful? Because you did nothing that I should be grateful for! You're the reason I was in that other dimension in the first place, and you're the one who has potentially destroyed the universe!"

That struck a nerve. He could feel his anger mounting against his will as he scowled. Okay. Now he was getting pissed. Did his brother really just ignore the fact he had _spent thirty fricken years of his life_ trying to _rescue_ him?

"Nothing you should be grateful for?!" Stanley exclaimed incredulously. "I spent thirty years trying to fix that portal to bring you back, you jerk! I spent night after night in that dingy lab, doing everything I could to bring you home! I didn't care if it would bring the end of the world, just as long as you were back!"

The tension in the room mounted as Stanford threw his arms up into the air, beginning to pace back and forth as he ranted.

"And that is exactly the problem, Stanley! You only ever care about yourself, you never think of the consequences. You always were like that. You never cared if your actions hurt someone else, just as long as you got what _you_ wanted. You never cared for anyone, anyone but yourself! It's why you took my name; took my life!"

Stanley growled as he clenched his fists, his heart beating rapidly due to adrenaline. He couldn't believe this. How dare his brother say that to him? Everything he'd done over the past thirty years was for that ungrateful jerk! How could he say that he didn't care about others, when the proof to the contrary was right in front of him?! He took a step closer to his brother, who had stopped pacing and was currently standing next to the doorway, glare in place.

"You have a lotta nerve, sayin' that ta me. I never cared about anyone but myself? What about that time we were ten and I gave up going to that sleep-away camp I had really wanted to go to for years, since you were sick with the mumps? And how I stayed beside you every second, catching the disease myself, trying to keep you company? Or how about all the times I listened ta ya prattle on about some stupid, smarty-pants inventor, even though I had no idea what you were talkin' about half the time? Or when I gave up thirty years of my life, trying to bring you home?! Don't ya dare say I never cared about anyone but myself." He growled, anger and hurt building up inside of him. Stanford just scoffed and stalked closer to him. They were almost nose to nose at this point.

"That wasn't for me; that was for you! You only brought me back to satisfy your guilt. And while you may have done a few things for me over the years, ultimately it has all been about you! It was your dream to travel the world in a sailboat, Stanley, not mine! And, if you had truly cared about me, you never would have sabotaged my chance of getting into West Coast Tech! You would have been happy for me, instead of feeling pity for yourself!" Stanford shouted, poking Stanley in the chest for emphasis.

"That, again?! It was a mistake! I was a kid! You were going to leave and I was angry! I never meant to mess up your stupid project! But honestly?! I'm glad I did! I'm glad I ruined your life, like you ruined mine!" He shouted back, his teeth barred as he shoved his brother away. Stanford stumbled and caught himself on the edge of the table, seething as he glared at his twin.

"You ruined your own life, Stanley. You were so hung up over your own needs and woes, you never noticed that you were the one to cause most of them. _You_ sabotaged your life, not me."

Stanley let out an incredulous laugh as he clenched his fists, feeling his anger and hurt peak. He felt the words he had kept inside for decades spill out, wanting- no, _needing_ \- his brother to feel his hurt. To understand just how badly things had been for him during those days. He hadn't wanted this when he woke up this morning, but part of him had to admit it felt good, finally getting to scream at his brother after all these years.

"You _abandoned_ me, Stanford! You turned your back on me and left me behind! I make one mistake and a lifetime of friendship gets erased?! Do you even care how difficult it was for me, after dad threw me out? I lived in my car more often than not! I was constantly on the brink of starvation! All the while, you were at college, getting awards and grants and other various things. You never bothered to look for me, you never bothered to find out if I was okay. So what you didn't go to your fancy college? At least you didn't have to spend several months in a cramped Mexican jailhouse! You forgot about me, so how can you say that I sabotaged my own life?! How can you say that I only ever cared about myself, when _you_ were the one to leave me behind over a stupid mistake?!"

Stanley was panting as he finished his speech, his hands shaking from the fury and hurt. He scowled at his twin as he tried to calm himself down.

Stanford, however, just continued to glower at him. He had shifted though, his blind anger transforming into cold fury. His gaze turned steely and his tense shoulders eased somewhat as he lifted his chin in challenge. He was the perfect picture of icy anger. "You pushed me into that portal. Because of you I spent thirty years lost between dimensions, wandering and encountering horrors you couldn't even imagine. You want to insist that _I_ ruined _your_ life? Well you ruined mine. _Twice_." He hissed, words like ice, sharp and piercing.

Stanley could feel his heart stop as his brother brought that up, the anger inside of him freezing. Of course he would bring it up, his worst mistake. He had been wondering when his brother would. He could still feel his anger, but it was now numb, tempered by shame. He could feel all the fight run out of him, causing him to deflate as he hunched his shoulders and looked down, a half grimace, half scowl on his face. He suddenly wanted to be anywhere else, to nurse his hurt. But he refused to let his brother have the last word.

"Yeah. But I did my best to get you back. You want to know why I refused to give up fixin' that machine, even though I knew it would bring about 'disaster'? That's why. Because you were lost, and I couldn't stand the idea of you lost and in pain. You're my brother. And no matter how much you may hate me, I always loved you. So if you want to blame me for all the things you're blamin' me for, then I can't stop you. But don't you dare think, even for a second, that I only ever cared for myself. Because I didn't."

With those words, he gave his brother one last glance, before marching out of the room. He didn't want to hear his brother's response. He just wanted to go lie down and forget this had ever happened. As he turned the corner to leave, though, he ran into Dipper and Mabel, who had been standing right outside the door to the room. They looked at him with wide eyes, like deer in the headlights, but he honestly didn't care. So what if they had heard the whole fight. He stepped around them and headed up to his room, where he sat on his bed and put his head in his hand.

He supposed that this had been inevitable. He had noticed his brother's anger ever since that first day, when the man had punched him. Stanford had kept it under wraps, focussing his energy on his projects like he always had. But nothing could just make that much anger and hurt disappear. And eventually, it just overflowed and couldn't be stopped. Not to mention the fact that they had never had the chance to finish their last fight, Stanford getting pulled into the portal mid-fight. They had never gotten to resolve their problems, causing them to just keep building. Today had been the result of forty years of repressed feelings, bursting out over something minor. And he knew that. Yet it still made him feel like shit.

And, no matter how much he knew it to be true, it still hurt to get further confirmation that his brother truly hated him. That they were broken. That there was little to no hope of fixing things between them.

He felt like screaming at the unfairness of it all, to let out all the pent up rage inside of him, but instead just went over to his trunk, opening it up and unlocking a hidden compartment that was concealed at the bottom. He took out the book that was hidden there and ran his fingers over the title. During those years when he had been fixing the portal, when everything had just been too much to handle and he couldn't even remember why he was doing it, he would look at this book. It had always helped him calm down. Maybe it would work now.

"Stanley and Stanford's journal of cool stuff!" He muttered, a small smile finding its way on his face as he flipped through the old thing. Inside there were pictures and text, words that would describe the weird and unusual things they would find on the beach. The writing was childish and clumsy, his writing nearly illegible while his brother's was only a bit more readable. His favorite pages, though, were the ones with the pictures of them together, smiling and happy as they documented their progress on their boat. Those pictures had always been taken by Shermy, who they would ask to take pictures for them occasionally. While their shared brother had never joined them on their adventures, preferring to spend time with his own friends, they still tried to involve him whenever possible.

He could feel the usual melancholy flood through him as he flipped through the pages, settling alongside the nostalgia. His mother had found it several years ago, right after his father's death, giving it to him to commemorate the 'death' of Stanley. He had used to spend hours flipping through it, feeling the pang of his brother's loss every time he did. As he looked through it now, he still felt that pang. Only now it wasn't because his brother was still lost in some other dimension; now, it was because he knew they would never get this back. They would never have the relationship they once shared.

And it hurt.


	11. Chapter 11

We're almost done, folks! Second to last chapter up.

So... I honestly don't know what to say about this chapter. I mean, I like it, but I don't like how abrupt it is. You may or may not see what I'm talking about as you read it. The reason why it's kind of abrupt, though, is because it has a lot to do with Ford and his mind-set, and since this is set in Stanley's point of view, I can't really explain why Ford is doing what he's doing, since I doubt he'd explain it out loud and I doubt Stan would be observant enough to take a guess.

Be that as it may, I have started on the companion piece for this story! Yay! Problem is, it kind of sucks. Boo. Honestly, my problem is that Ford is so drastically different to Stan, and I'm kind of struggling to get into his head. (Not to mention I'm sick and have a lot of going on). Also I understand Stan a lot better than I understand Ford, which makes him a lot easier to write for. So I'll do my best to write from Ford's POV, but I'm not making any promises.

And... I think that's it. I hope you like this chapter. I wrote it mostly because this whole story was so dark and gloomy, what with Stan's depression and self-hatred, so I wanted something more upbeat. Enjoy! And remember to review/comment! (And once again, thanks to everyone who commented last chapter. They mean the world to me. ^-^)

* * *

 _~~~And the records that I've played~~~_

* * *

The days following the fight with his brother had been difficult for him.

Sixty years old and worn, Stanley stared at his brother's back with a heavy heart, listening to what he said from the safety of the corner, where he couldn't be seen.

Stanford was currently sitting on the living room with the twins, telling them stories about his life in Gravity Falls before he had fallen into the portal. He used large gestures, his face and body animated as he told tales of huge beasts and magical beings. The children sat in front of him, enraptured.

For the entire day after the fight had happened, his brother had stayed down in his lab- not leaving once- working through his anger, he guessed. When his brother hadn't come up for dinner, he felt just a little concern and had made Mabel go down with some food, to make sure he was eating. He had done it surreptitiously, of course, not wanting anyone to know he actually cared. Mabel had done it willingly and had said that his brother had eaten the food and that he was busy working on something, though she didn't know what. That had helped alleviated some of his concern, though not all of it.

The next day, however, Stanford had emerged from his lab, acting like his usual self and pretty much pretending that nothing had happened. He had spoken to the twins, and even Stanley, like normal. It had confused him, but he had decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth and went with it, not bringing up the fight.

Yet it was still off. Whenever they spoke, he could see tension in his brother's eyes. He could hear the clipped tone of his voice. He tried his hardest to ignore it but he found that he couldn't. He couldn't help but see the cracks in their relationship and it felt like a physical wound. This was not how things were supposed to be and Stanley hated it.

While his brother had gone on pretending nothing was wrong, he had spent the time thinking through their life. He had looked through their childhood journal numerous times, remembering how things used to be. He even tried to think about ways that he could fix things, wanting things to be like they were. However, everything he came up with, his stubborn pride refused to let him do. He absolutely refused to apologize; at least, not before Stanford did. It may be petty, but he didn't care. He may hate how things were, but he'd be damned before he apologized first. And without an apology, he didn't quite see how he could make things better.

Now, as he stood in the shadows, he remembered a time when they had used to tell each other everything. Back when his brother was the only person on this earth whom he trusted, the only person whom he had known had his back. As he listened, he couldn't help but think of how little he knew the man that used to be his best friend. He was a completely different person than the boy he had known. And maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe that was why they no longer fit.

As he listened, he couldn't help but wonder where the boy he had known had gone. Was it the portal that changed him? Or was it during the ten years they had been apart? He still remembered a nerdy wimp, one who needed his protection and friendship. Now, though… now he was telling stories of battling werewolves and vampires, fighting against impossible odds and beating them all on his own. The portal couldn't have changed him back then, so it must have happened while they were apart.

And who knows. Maybe he just had never known his brother. Maybe Stanford had always been like this and he had just never bothered to notice. Maybe he had always just been a bad brother.

Stanley felt an ache in his chest when he saw the children laugh at something Stanford had said. The kids sure seemed to love his brother... It made sense, he supposed. Everyone loved Stanford. More than they loved him, at least. It was the same with their parents, their shared brother, their teachers... Everyone who had ever known them, really. It was just how things worked. He was the screw-up and his brother was the golden child. He had been kidding himself to think that the kids might be the one exception. That maybe the time they had spent together this summer would make them care for him more. That saving them would have made a difference. Yeah, right. Idiot…

Turning quietly, Stanley tried to leave without anyone noticing, not wanting to get caught watching their little family bonding moment. However, as he took a step away he stepped on a creaky board, causing the trio to stop their laughter and look over to his dark corner. Dammit, he really had to stop forgetting about the creaky boards.

Feeling panicked, he tried to come up with a good lie, but nothing came to mind. Great, the one time he needed a good excuse, his mind decided to freeze up on him. There was an awkward silence as they all just stared at each other, before Mabel grinned and jumped up, bounding over towards him.

"Grunkle Stan! You're here! Come on, Great Uncle Ford was just telling us stories about his days in Gravity Falls. You should join us!" She chirped, tugging gently on his hand as she did. Stanley stared down at her with widened eyes, shaking his head slightly.

"Uh, I don't know sweetie. I've got, uh, an important thing that I've got to do, right now…" He said, not wanting to have to be part of their story time. He didn't want to feel any more like an outsider, thank you very much. But then Dipper joined in.

"Come on Grunkle Stan! Join us! I'm sure whatever it is you're working on can wait for a half an hour." The boy said logically, smiling up at him from his spot on the floor. Stanley, torn, looked over at his brother, who was frowning. A second passed, before Stanford nodded slowly.

"Yes. I'm sure whatever you're working on can wait, Stanley. If you'd like to listen, you should stay."

Stanley could feel his heart nearly beat out of his chest as he stared at his brother. It may not have been much, but it was… it was something. And something was better than nothing.

And so, even though he had reservations about it, he took a seat on the floor beside his brother, turned towards the man so that he could see. Mabel moved to sit next to him, grinning as she rested her head against his arm, making herself comfortable against his side as Stanford started up his story again.

And for a minute, sitting on the floor of the living room listening to his brother telling about his life in Gravity Falls, he thought that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out okay. That by letting out all of their anger and rage, they had gotten over some of their issues.

That they could become a family again.

* * *

If he had known his brother was in the room, he never would have done it. He would have walked away and never subjected himself to this new form of torture.

Sixty years old and embarrassed as all hell, Stanley stared wide-eyed at his brother, who was giving him a bemused look from the doorway of his room.

Things between him and his brother had been going pretty well, if he did say so himself. After the brief truce they had made the other day, with Stanford allowing him to join him and the kids for 'story time', the tension between them had faded a bit. It was still there, of course, but it felt less hostile and more like two people who had no idea how to act around the other. Their argument had cleared a lot of the bad blood between them, but not all of it. Yet it was getting better.

For instance, his brother had even spoken to him about the mythology of one of the creatures he had once encountered in the woods. It was a subject that didn't actually leave him feeling lost, since he had read some books on mythical creatures during the years his brother had been gone, not to mention the numerous times he had poured over that Godforsaken journal. He and Stanford had been able to talk on an almost even playing field for once, which was something he hadn't been prepared for at all, but welcomed all the same. All in all, things were going, dare he say, well. Like they could mend things and let bygones be bygones.

Now, though, he felt like running away and changing his name, if only to escape the look that his twin was giving him. God this wasn't good.

"I… I can explain." Stanley stammered out as he straightened, turning the device off quickly. Stanford just raised an eyebrow in question and crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorway as Stanley sweated nervously.

He opened his mouth once, trying to figure out the words that would make this better, but closed it after realizing his mind was blank. Darn his mind; how dare it keep betraying him like this?

After a few moments had passed in silence, Stanley gave up trying to come up with an excuse and simply hunched his shoulders, shoving his hands into his pockets. He scowled at the object that had started this.

He didn't even know why he had bought the thing. He had been down at the general store today, browsing for something he could use to make a new attraction when he had spotted it out of the corner of his eye. It had been impulse that had caused him to stop and buy it.

Now, for some reason, he was the 'proud' owner of an old 50's style record player and a bunch of 50's and 60's records. He had taken the thing home and was going to just shove it into the back of his closet, when, for whatever reason that had driven him to buy the thing in the first place, he had instead decided to try and see if it worked. It had nothing to do with the fact one of the records had his favorite song that he hadn't heard in years.

The worst thing though, the one that he had no excuse for, was the fact that he had decided to dance to the record.

If he was being honest, he would have admitted that he had just felt nostalgic, that seeing the record player had sparked something inside him that he usually kept hidden. And hearing the music had transported him back to when he was 16, young and carefree, Carla by his side. Back before she had left him for that hippie, before he had been kicked out of his house; before everything had went so utterly wrong. For a minute, he could remember his childhood and not feel that horrid clench in his heart.

The dancing was probably not the smartest idea, considering his age, but it had been almost effortless. Like riding a bike. Once he had started, it was hard to stop. The aches and pains he would deal with later. For now, he would just dance and not care about anything.

He hadn't realized, though, that his brother had been passing his room. Nor that he had left the door wide open, which gave his brother a full view of his shameful movements. It was mortifying, getting caught by his twin. He was a grown man; he should not have been dancing to the Lake Guys' Great Reverberations, no matter how catchy the song was.

Now he could hear his brother chuckle lightly as he entered the room -uninvited, might he add- and walked over to the record player. Stanley would have felt happy to hear his brother laugh, had it not been at his expense. Instead, he just felt his cheeks heat up as he tracked his brother's movements suspiciously.

Stanford, though, simply looked down at the record and carefully picked it up, reading the title.

"I remember you would listen to this all the time when we were younger; you used to love this band, didn't you?" Stanford asked a moment later, looking up at him. There was an emotion in his brother's eye that he couldn't quite place, but made his heart lurch.

"Er… yeah. I guess. They had good music." He muttered, still feeling somewhat embarrassed, but also feeling pleased his brother would recall that about him. It wasn't like he had been _obsessed_ with the band. He had just like a few songs, alright?

Stanford smiled softly before he placed the record back on the record player, starting the song from the beginning. Once the music began playing, his twin had moved into the center of the room, beside where he was still standing, taking his long coat off as he went.

"There was a dance that you used to do for this song, wasn't there?" His brother added, like he hadn't just caught him dancing it a few moment ago. "How did it go again?"

Then, much to his shocked astonishment, his brother started dancing; clumsy, awkward movements that mimicked what he had been doing earlier. It took a few moments, but eventually the shock faded, and he felt himself shake his head.

"No, no. You've got it all wrong, Poindexter." He said, though he could feel a small grin growing on his face. Stanford stopped and raised an eyebrow at him, a challenge in his eyes.

"Oh yeah? Well, why don't you show me how it's done then, doofus?" He challenged, though Stanley could see him hiding his own grin.

Stanley could feel his heart lifting as he saw it, his grin now taking over his face.

"Fine, I will. First, ya gotta twist your hips, like this. Then, you move your feet…" He explained, showing the movements as he did them. Pretty soon, his brother was joining in and they both were laughing at the other, especially when one would fail. When the song ended, they listened to the next track, changing their dance moves to fit the new beat. He could feel his heart lighten as he watched his brother, more carefree than he had seen in nearly five decades. His brother had always been somewhat serious, especially once they had reached puberty and were expected to be men. Stanford had taken his Bar-Mitzvah seriously; Stanley had seen it as just another birthday, albeit one that he had had to learn a _lot_ of Hebrew for.

But now, watching him dance terribly to old pop music… it was like they were kids again, best friends who didn't care if they were doing something embarrassing, just as long as they were doing it together.

It was several minutes later when he heard the noise at the door, pattering feet stopping abruptly with a small, shocked gasp. He didn't even have time to turn to see who it was before a loud squeal was let out.

"Oooh! Old timey dance party!" He heard a familiar high pitched voice squeal. He turned then and could feel his neck getting slightly warm with embarrassment as he took in his two charges standing in the doorway, one bouncing up and down in excitement and the other standing awkwardly, staring at them in confusion.

"Dipper, Mabel! Come join us!" He heard his brother shout over the sound of the music. Mabel nodded furiously and jumped right in, waving her arms around and laughing. Dipper, more reserved than his twin, just stayed by the door. Feeling the good mood flood through him once more, he walked over to the boy and dragged him in.

"Come on kid, don't be a wet blanket. Dance." He said, moving back over to where his brother was now trying to follow the style that Mabel was doing, to no avail. Dipper continued to stand awkwardly off to the side, moving in stiff, jerking movements, before Mabel came over and took his arms, forcing him to dance along with her. Pretty soon, he was laughing as well, dancing just as badly as Stanford was, but not caring. Stanley could barely contain his laughter as he watched the two try and dance with each other.

By the time the record ended, all four of them were panting on the ground, grins on their faces as they chatted together.

While it he still wasn't sure what had possessed his brother to start dancing with him, he was glad that he had. He could feel his heart swelling as he leaned against his brother's arm, Mabel sitting between his extended legs, Dipper sitting between his brother's. This was something he had thought he'd never be able to do again. Being so free around his brother, acting like they were friends again… it almost made him want to cry.

Maybe things really _would_ work out. Maybe they could work through their issues and be brothers again.

Maybe.

* * *

P.S. The Great Reverberations by the Lake Guys was meant to be a parody name for the song Good Vibrations, by the Beach Boys. In case anyone was confused. For some reason, I just find the thought of Stan dancing to the Beach Boys amusing.


	12. Chapter 12

*To the tune of Final Countdown* It's the final chapter!

Before I begin the note, I first want to thank everyone who made it this far. I'm glad you all like my story. I know I'm not the strongest writer in the world (I've never actually been that big a fan of writing) so I'm glad to see that people think I'm doing okay.

Now, for the record, this chapter is not a prediction for how I think the show will go at all. This is mostly my way of ending this story happily while not going too much out of the canon story-line. I hope you like it.

And as for the companion piece... Even if I write it, it won't be for a while. I'm starting up school next week (my final year of high school, which should be interesting...) so I don't know how much time I'll have. But! I will do my best to write it. Some day. I'll even try and get a series up for AO3, so y'all can bookmark it or subscribe if you want. For those on FF . Net, I'll make sure to post a new chapter on this story when the companion piece is ready, so if you're following this story you should get a notification.

And... I think that is it. If you spot any mistakes, please tell me. Remember to comment/review! ^-^

* * *

 _~~~Please forgive me for all I've done~~~_

* * *

The rest of the summer had passed by quickly, a daze of family bonding and fun interspersed by panic and fear. All in all a weird, yet unforgettable, summer.

But, as always, nothing lasts forever and everything must end. Sixty years old and feeling bittersweet, Stanley waved goodbye to the kids, who were sitting in the back of their bus, waving frantically at him and his brother. He could feel a pang in his heart as he watched them drive away. He really would miss those kids.

Once the bus was out of sight, he turned and went back to the Shack, his brother following silently behind. An emptiness filled him as he walked, though he did his best to ignore it.

The summer had been wild. So much had happened in those few, short months, including an almost apocalypse. _That_ had been freaky, but working together the four of them, plus Soos and Wendy, had managed to defeat the bad guys and prevail triumphant. His brother fixed the tear in the universe (which he had only told them about _after_ he had fixed it) and that weird triangle thing had been sent back to wherever it came from.

There had been other, more minor problems along the way, such as he and his brother trying to work around each other while still harboring old grudges, and the kids having a minor falling out for a couple of days, but they had gotten through it all reasonably well.

And now the kids were gone and he and his brother were left alone, stuck trying to figure out where they would go from there. Stanley could still remember the words his brother had said to him, the day he had stepped out of the portal, and he was filled with fear that Stanford had still not changed his mind. He knew why his brother would want it all back- it was his life, after all- but he didn't want to be left high and dry again. Left to come up with a new identity and a new life. He had spent too much time creating this one to simply start over. However, if his brother wanted it, he'd do it. He had realized a while ago that he simply didn't want to fight anymore.

Silence, thick and awkward, filled the space between them as they entered the shack and sat in the living room. For the whole summer, they had always had someone else around them, acting as a buffer. Yeah, they had spent time alone, but it was always with the knowledge that they had the kids to worry about. That way, they could never get too angry or too upset at the other, or else the kids would pick up on it. They didn't have that now, and it was jarring.

Stanford sighed after a minute had passed, picking absently at the sweater that Mabel had made for him. It was that maroon one that he had seen her making a few weeks ago, with the golden hand in the center. Stanley had his own on, a brown one that had the words "World's Greatest Grunkle!" on it. The girl had originally been concerned that Stanford would take it the wrong way, but his brother had just waved it off, claiming that he didn't mind being second best in this occasion. It had warmed his heart to receive it and he wore it whenever he could, even though it was too hot to wear a lot of the time.

"So." Stanley started after a few more minutes had passed, before trailing off. He honestly had no idea what to say. While things between him and his brother were better than they had been initially, they were still light years from being what they used to be. They were stuck- not enemies, but also not quite friends. Neither here nor there, and this murky middle ground was stifling in its vastness. He had no idea how to breach it and cause his brother to love him again. Because while he acknowledged that Stanford might care for him, he still didn't believe that he loved him. And that knowledge killed him. He desperately wanted to fix things (permanently, not just a brief reprieve now and then), but _how?_ He just didn't know.

"So." His brother replied, looking as awkward as he felt. More silence overtook them as they fidgeted, the absence of noise deafening after a summer of caring for two rambunctious twelve year olds. Honestly, all Stanley wanted to do right now was go upstairs, lie in bed, and sleep away the pain the twins' absence caused in him, yet he knew he had to speak with his brother first. He had to know if he should be making plans to rebuild his life or what. If only he could come up with the right words to say.

"Look, Stanley… clearly, we need to talk." His brother finally stated, the sudden noise almost causing Stanley to topple out of his chair. He looked over towards his twin and nodded, trying not to feel anxiety over what his brother would say. Whatever it was, he would take it. He would roll with the punches, like he always did. Or he would simply fail and die in a ditch somewhere, forgotten and unloved. Back to the original plan then, he supposed.

Shaking off the macabre thoughts, he focused back on his brother when the man started to speak again.

"I want my name back." Stanford started, looking at him intensely. Stanley felt his heart drop. "I want my house back. I want my life back. That much has not changed over the past month."

Stanley could feel his gut clenching, pain filling his heart, but he refused to let it show. He had known this was a possibility- no matter how many jokes they shared, no matter how close they used to be, he had still stolen his brother's life. And his brother had the right to want it all back. Yet it still hurt like hell. He didn't want to start all over; he didn't want to be apart from Ford again. Looks like he would have to, though… Stanley was about to say something (what, he didn't know) when he was interrupted.

"However," Stanford interjected, eyes still boring into him, "I do not want you to leave. I... I understand that this is your life. It would be cruel of me to take it from you. So, we need to come up with a solution. An answer that will allow me my life back, but will also allow you to stay. Luckily, I've come up with a few ideas…"

Stanley stared, eyes wide, at his brother. He could vaguely feel his heart lift, could feel his hopes soar, but all he could process was his brother's earnest face and the fact that he wasn't going to have to start all over. That his brother wanted him to stay. That his brother wanted _him_. That he had actually come up with ideas that would allow them both to live their lives. He had to force himself to get his head out of the clouds long enough to listen to his brother's plans.

Ford proceeded to ramble on about needlessly complicated plans that he had come up with, one even including a mind altering device that would make everyone think that Stanley had been Stanley all along, never having taken his brother's name and instead had simply been watching over his brother's house, and that Stanford was his brother who had recently come back from a really long world trip. Stanley listened to them all with a growing amount of skepticism (though he still felt touched that his twin had gone through all this trouble for his sake). It was after the third idea that he realized he should probably share his own, far simpler idea that he had come up with. He waited until his brother had finished to voice it.

"Or, we could always just tell a version of the truth." He held up a hand when his brother looked like he was going to interject. "Look, I've lived in this town for long enough to know how stupid they all are, especially the cops. If we go down to Town Hall and tell them a dumbed down version of what happened, we could get our name situation sorted out, get all my crimes I did under your name put back under my own, resurrect me from the dead… it would work, they're stupid enough to do it. Yeah, it'd take a lotta work, but it'd be a lot simpler than any of your bright ideas. And, if it doesn't work, you can just mind control everyone." Stanley finished with a shrug, trying to act nonchalant even though he was still reeling from the fact his brother wasn't kicking him out. The idea he shared was actually one he had come up with years ago, when he had thought up what he would do once Ford was back. He just finally had a time to announce it.

Part of him was expecting his brother to reject the idea immediately, but instead the man looked contemplative.

"Do you really think it would work?" Ford asked, frowning as he thought through the idea from all angles. He could tell that Ford didn't like the simplicity of the plan, but life didn't have to be as complicated as his brother made it. Why take ten steps when you could get the same results with only two?

"Trust me, it'd work. Just leave the talking to me and I'll get everything sorted." He claimed, adding in one of his charming smiles, though it felt thin to him. They always did, but now more so than ever. He did appreciate the irony of asking the man whom he had sort of betrayed to trust him, though.

To his surprise, his brother just nodded, conceding to him. "Alright Stan, if you think it'll work. I trust you."

Not knowing how to respond to that, he just nodded dumbly, watching as his brother smiled hesitatingly at him before heading downstairs to his lab. He stayed frozen on the couch for several minutes in shock before getting up slowly and heading upstairs to his room. Once there, he just sat on his bed and tried to sort everything out; his mind was so jumbled he could barely make heads or tails out of anything.

First of all, he wasn't going to have to leave his life behind. That was a relief, as he honestly didn't think he'd survive trying to create a new life.

Second of all, his brother wanted him to stay. This was harder to comprehend than the first. For years he had thought his brother hated him, and only recently did he concede that his brother perhaps cared a little. But to actually _want_ him to stay? To invite him to continue living out his life alongside his brother? It was almost unthinkable. Yet, it was true.

And lastly, he was going to get to be Stanley again. It had been decades since he had been Stanley. He honestly had no idea how much he had missed his own name, missed his own identity. Yes, Stanley Pines was a screw-up and the world was probably better off without him, but it was still who he was. He had spent the first eighteen years of his life using that name, had made memories with that name, and he would finally get it back. He could feel himself smile as he laid back on the bed, wondering if perhaps he would finally figure out who he was once he was himself again.

There were probably other things he needed to think about, such as how he would convince Town Hall that he was Stanley and that his brother was Stanford without getting sent to jail for identity theft, but he was too emotionally drained to even contemplate anything else.

And as he fell asleep, holding onto that sash that his niece had given him weeks ago, he thought that while the twins were gone, his life didn't have to be empty again. He had his brother. And that was enough for him.

* * *

 _Epilogue:_

* * *

Watching the children as they ran around, a small smile formed on his lips, one that he didn't even bother trying to hide.

Sixty one years old and content, Stanley sat back in his chair and sipped his drink, listening to his brother ramble on about a project he was working on and watching the children as they played.

For the first time in probably his whole life, Stanley could say that everything was going right. That life was good. Sitting here with his brother while the kids were having fun, he honesty couldn't think of a time where he was happier.

Of course, the past year had been rough. What with sorting out the identity thing (which, as predicted, had taken a while to legally work out) and the backlash from that (people in town were not very keen on the idea that he had been lying to them for over thirty years) not to mention trying to mend things with his brother (slow going but they were getting there), things had certainly not been dull or easy. But, there were also good things. The Mystery Shack was still going strong, he and his brother had worked through the majority of their issues and were working towards being friends again, and he was finally able to live his life as himself again.

He had even managed to convince his brother to help out with the tours a bit. Ford has been wary at first, saying how he didn't exactly approve of scamming people, but that was fixed once he had allowed his brother to show and teach his nerdy science/paranormal things. The crowds had loved learning about weird little creatures that lived in the forest and about the science mumbo jumbo, and his brother enjoyed sharing his knowledge with the world, even if it was only for tourists. Stanley was still the favorite tour guide, though (he had even made a survey card to make sure).

Now it was summer again, and while his nephew and niece-in-law had been initially a bit upset to learn that he was not who he had claimed he was, the twins had begged and pleaded, and his nephew had eventually given in and let them return to Gravity Falls. It didn't even surprise him anymore, how glad he was to have them back. He hardly bothered to hide it, either. (Though he wasn't going soft. Of course not.)

"Stanley, don't you think it's getting a bit late? We should probably have dinner soon." He heard his brother say, breaking the silence that had descended after Ford had finished talking about whatever it was he was working on. While he did make more of an effort to listen to his brother, he was still completely lost when Ford started talking about quantum physics.

Noticing that his brother was right, he nodded and got up with a soft grunt.

"Kids! Time for dinner! Get your butts in here or I'm not feeding you." He shouted out to them, causing them to stop their game and bound up to him and his brother, wide smiles on their faces. Mabel's stupid pig followed the two, oinking upon reaching them. (Stanley refused to admit that he was growing kind of fond of the pig. The kids, he would allow. The pig? No way.)

The four of them (and Waddles) entered the shack, Stanley going immediately over to the stove, getting started on some pasta for them all. It was even the good stuff, not the cheap products he had been so used to over the years. His brother had taken over the grocery shopping once he had realized that Stanley honestly didn't care what he ate, just as long as it was food. (Though it hadn't been fun explaining to Ford why he didn't particularly care; after all, going for days without food tended to make one appreciate even the basest meals. His brother had been horrified upon hearing that.)

As the pasta boiled and the sauce heated up, Stanley listened to the conversation his brother was having with the twins, something about this quest the two of them had gone on a few months previous (though it honestly hadn't been that interesting; they had simply gotten trapped down in some caves while his brother had been searching for a creature he had heard about. It had taken them hours to find a way out, hours in which they had had a few close calls against these weird cave monsters, and had had more than one spat. His brother, though, made it sound like it was the most exciting thing ever, leaving out all the boring walking and arguing moments. It seemed his brother was finally taking some pointers from him, he thought with a smile)

When the food was done, he walked over to the table and set the bowl of pasta in the center, allowing them all to grab however much they wanted. The twins attacked the food with a ferocity that was almost concerning, while he and his brother ate more sedately. The chatter around the table had picked up as the twins started bickering about something, his brother chiming in occasionally with his own opinions. Stanley was content to just listen, letting the conversation wash over him.

He had never expected this, had never expected to feel this happy. When he had gotten kicked out of his first home, all he had wanted was to get his family back. When he had lost his brother to that portal, all he had wanted was to get him back. Never, not even in his wildest imaginations, did he contemplate actually being happy. It had always been about just not being so sad; it had been unthinkable that he could ever be happy. But he was. Sitting here, listening to his family, he could feel happiness flooding through him. Strange, how the emotion was getting less and less foreign as the days passed.

Things weren't perfect, but he had come to peace with that. A perfect life would have been boring, anyway. He understood now that he and his brother would always have a bit of hesitance around each other, but he could also appreciate how they were light years better than they had been. And that they were getting better with each day that passed.

So, yeah, bad things were still going to happen. Hard times would still find them. But he had his brother back, his best friend. He had his great niece and nephew, and his employees.

And that was plenty good enough.


	13. New Story Announcement

Hey everyone! So, I've written, and completed, the companion piece to this story! It's called The Flip Side, and it follows Stanford Pines' life, similar to how this story went. You can find it in my works.

Now, there are a couple things I wanted to mention first.

First of all, I kind of lied. I said how The Flip Side would be shorter than The Life of Pines. Well, not only is it not shorter, it's actually longer but about 10,000 words. Whoops. Also, I think I mentioned how there wouldn't be that much angst. Well, I lied there too. There's not quite as much angst, but it does have its fair share. You have been warned.

And, I think that's it. If you liked The Life of Pines, I hope you that you'll like The Flip Side. It's a bit different, since Stanford is a vastly different person, but hopefully it's not bad.

I'm going to leave this announcement up, just so everyone who is unaware that I've written the companion piece will know. :-)


End file.
